The Cleansing
by skittery's bad mood
Summary: COMpleted! All is not well in New York...
1. chapter1

Disclaimer: Newsies are not ours, we just like pretending...

This is in response to challenge 9&10...multi chaptered vaticide...we'll get there eventually...

Chapter 1:

Snoddy listened to the sound of Skittery's distant voice. They had separated, like they usually did, once they entered the inner city. They sold on opposite sides of the block, still within sight of one another, but far enough away that they wouldn't run the risk of stealing the other's customers.

Snoddy sighed. It had already been an almost dead morning, and though the streets were alive and busy, the headlines were slow, and dull. He counted his remaining papers, and then glanced at his friend who looked just as dejected as Snoddy felt. Snoddy caught his eye for a moment, and Skittery shook his head with a weak smile.

Snoddy shrugged and then turned away. He headed down the street further, hoping that he would have more luck near the market. His hopes were dashed though, and after a while, he gave up completely. He discarded his remaining papers in a pile of trash near the back of an alley, and then strolled out into the busy market to browse the offered goods.

He neared the end of the market, but not ready to return home so early, continued down the road that led to the river. When he rounded a corner suddenly, he found himself at the back of a large crowd of people who were cheering about something. Curious, he moved closer, edging his way between well dressed ladies and gentlemen. He found himself almost on the inner ring of the circle, whose center was inhabited by a man in a black suit and tie, and a tall top hat. Short, silvery curls protruded from beneath the rim of the hat, and a monocle adorned his right eye. He was holding up a large black book and seemed to be waiting for the crowd to quiet down before continuing his speech.

Finally the cheering settled, and the man pointed a hand at the book. "The great book says, the unholy cannot enter heaven." He paused to eye the crowd. "So we must banish the unholy from our presence so as not to be tainted by them!" Another cheer followed the statement and this time, the man, who Snoddy had decided was a preacher of some sort, did not wait for the crowd before continuing. "We must be rid of the filth that litters our streets!"

Snoddy held a hand over his right ear as a woman with a shrill voice began shouting incoherently.

"Beggars, and orphans, and bums belong outside of our borders! Daily they feed off of our tax money, and I have seen the fall of our great society because of their ungodliness!" Several members of the crowd, Snoddy noticed, were looking at him distastefully.

He felt his face grow red, and clenched his fists tightly against his sides as the man in the middle continued his tirade. Before he realized what he was doing, Snoddy had taken several steps forward, and though he wasn't close to the preacher, he was far enough away from the crowd that nearly everyone noticed him.

The preacher, whose back was turned to Snoddy, suddenly noticed how quiet the crowd had grown again. He followed their gazes to Snoddy, who stood several feet from him with a livid expression on his face.

"What's the matter, boy? Does the truth make you angry?"

"It ain't true!" Snoddy snapped. "We'se just as good as all of you, if not better!"

"You see?" The preacher turned back to the crowd. "Do you see the pride? The jealousy? The rage?! They think they're better than us! They actually believe they will be saved in the kingdom of heaven!" There was a chorus of boos, all aimed at Snoddy, who felt more uncomfortable than he ever had before. He scolded himself for making his presence known, and was just about to turn away when the man snagged him by the back of his collar. "Why, would a loving and merciful God place an innocent creature like this in the lowest and most desperate of situations? Why? I'll tell you why! Because this boy, and every other bum in this city deserve what they get! That's why! I'll bet he smokes! And," the man tilted Snoddy's red face up. "He probably drinks, spends nights in the bars, gambling his money away and fraternizing with the other low lives that dwell here, and muck up our blessed city! I tell you, God will stand for it no more! This boy is being punished for his sins! And if we allow him to remain in our presence, He'll punish us, also!"

He threw Snoddy forward, and Snoddy landed hard on the dirt below him. He felt his face connect with the gritty gravel street and knew that the resulting wound would most likely bleed, if it wasn't doing so already. The crowd around him was laughing, pointing, and shouting at him as he lifted himself off of the street. He started to brush off his clothes, and suddenly felt something solid hit his arm. He looked down, and noticed a broken tomato, whose insides had been partially left on his sleeve.

Snoddy started to panic as other members of the crowd mimicked the first and began to throw various objects at him. He was pelted with every type of fruit imaginable, and even some stones. He tried to escape the epicenter of the mass, but they blocked him.

"Remove the filth so that our city may be cleansed of its wicked state!" The preacher's message was barely heard but Snoddy didn't think that really mattered. The mob loathed him and wanted to be rid of him. There wasn't a thing anyone could do to stop it.

Skittery dropped wearily into the shade of the alley beside the lodging house. It was probably cooler inside, but Skittery enjoyed being alone, and because he lived with twenty or so other boys, it was nearly impossible to be alone in the lodging house.

He dug into his pocket for a cigarette and was disappointed to find that he had only one left. He made a mental note to visit Snitch later, and then turned his attention to igniting the end of his cigarette. He was glad for a moment that Snoddy wasn't around. There was no doubt that Snoddy would scold him, yell at him that smoking was a bad a habit, or as was most usual, insist that he share.

It suddenly dawned on him that he hadn't seen Snoddy all afternoon. Skittery found that simple realization odd, as Snoddy was always around. He felt a slight twinge of worry as he stood up and brushed off his pants. Maybe Snoddy had gone inside without him noticing? Skittery broke the smoldering end off of his half finished cigarette and pocketed the remaining half.

Inside was chaos. Because the headlines were so bad, almost all of the newsies had returned for the evening. Skittery noticed small piles of discarded papers littering the tables and counter as he scanned the room for his missing friend.

"Heya, Skitts! Where ya been?"

Skittery smiled at Blink. "Out. Hey, Blink. You seen Snoddy come back yet?"

Blink shook his head. "Nah. He ain't been here that I know of." Skittery frowned.

"Somethin' the matter?"

"I dunno yet. I just...Snoddy's never not here, ya know?"

Blink's cheerful expression changed slightly as it dawned on him that Skittery was right. Snoddy never left alone without telling anyone. A wave of panic washed over him. "Should we go an' look for him?"

Skittery considered the proposal for a moment before he nodded.

Blink nodded back. "I'll tell Jack."

Skittery mentioned that he would wait outside as Blink hurried upstairs where Jack was no doubt sleeping. All he ever did lately was sleep.

It seemed to take forever for Blink to reappear, and when he did, Itey and Mush were right behind him. "Thanks, guys," Skittery said as they made their way down the street.

When they got to the end of it, where the road suddenly forked left and right, Skittery suggested they split up. Itey and Blink went left, Skittery and Mush headed right. A chill breeze taunted them as they headed toward the river. Skittery made sure to walk along all of their usual selling routes.

Dusk fell quickly and a sense of dread washed over Skittery as he and Mush reached the river. "He's around here somewhere," Mush said, hopefully, when he noticed Skittery's wide, worry-filled eyes, and his panicked gait.

In an act of desperation, Skittery began to shout Snoddy's name. He listened to his voice echo off the walls of the surrounding buildings, and then he and Mush listened eagerly into the silence for an answer.

Mush shouted the next time, and soon the two boys were hollering as loudly as they could manage as they traipsed through the dirty city streets. The only time the stopped shouting was when a woman leaned out of her upper floor window and informed them, rather heatedly, that they had just woken her baby.

They walked a few streets down before they yelled again. After each yell, they listened. The only answer they ever got was silence.

Until they turned down 3rd street.

The groan they heard was almost inaudible, and if they hadn't been so eager for an answer, they probably never would have heard it.

They continued to shout, and run, as the reply grew stronger. They finally found its source, lying against a pile of crates and covered in blood.

"Snoddy!" They shouted in unison. The boys fell on either side of the injured newsie, and Mush began immediately assessing the damage.

"He got worked over pretty bad," Mush mumbled, untying a handkerchief from Snoddy's arm. He spit into the red cloth and then used it to wipe away some of the blood that caked Snoddy's pale skin.

"Who did this to ya?" Skittery asked. Snoddy's eyes were swollen almost completely shut, but he managed to look up at Skittery. He shook his head. "Was it the Delancy's?"

Snoddy shook his head again.

"We've got to get him out of here," Mush said. He placed the soiled handkerchief into Snoddy's bloody hand and then stood up. Skittery did the same. Together, they reached down, and hoisted Snoddy to his feet. Snoddy winced when Skittery draped an arm over his shoulder.

"Be gentle," Mush scolded, noting Snoddy's brief flinch.

"I'm tryin'!" Skittery hissed.

The trip back to the lodging was awkward. Snoddy had a hard time moving anything, and he felt like dead weight on Mush and Skittery's shoulders. They had to stop to rest every now and then, and once for Snoddy to retch uncontrollably.

"He'll be okay," Skittery said quietly so that only Mush could hear him. He said it more to comfort himself, than Mush, whose face showed no signs of worry.

They lifted Snoddy up again, and finally after what seemed like hours, found themselves crossing the lodging house threshold.

Jack was waiting for them, along with Kloppman, Itey and Blink, who wore identical expressions of shock when they saw Snoddy.

"What happened?" Jack asked, helping Mush and Skittery lower Snoddy into a chair.

"We're not sure," Skittery replied. "He hasn't said anything yet."

"We gots to get him to a bed," Blink announced. The others agreed. The process of assisting Snoddy upstairs to the bunkroom was a difficult task. Jack and Blink flanked him now, to give Mush and Skittery a break, while Itey and Kloppman raided the medicine cabinet.

They tried to maneuver themselves into the room as quietly as possible.

Skittery hung back slightly when Kloppman entered the room carrying wash cloths and a small dark bottle, and trailed by Itey, whose arms were laden with more medical supplies than they would need.

Now that Snoddy was safe, and being taken care of, Skittery felt free to rage. He wanted so badly to throw something, maim something, or even some_one_, but no one or nothing in the present room would alleviate that want. He couldn't hurt his family.

While the others attended to Snoddy, Skittery snuck out of the bunk room and down the stairs. He needed to be somewhere where he could let out his anger.

He almost made it out of the front door when a hand pulled him back. Skittery stumbled slightly as he tried to move into a position where he could see his foe. He was met with the sympathetic gaze of Itey. Itey smiled gently, not removing his hand from Skittery's shoulder.

"Don't go out there," Itey said. His voice sounded pleading, and Skittery relented. He

couldn't look at Itey and still feel anger. It just wasn't possible.

"I won't, tonight," Skittery promised.

Itey nodded, satisfied with his answer, and then removed his hand from the taller boy's shoulder. "I won't stop you tomorrow." Itey gave him one last fleeting smile and then ascended the stairs again, leaving Skittery alone to stew in his fading fury.

A/N: Be gentle dear reviewers, I generally write comedy and I LOVE dialogue so this was a new experience for me! Luckily I have my pal Specs to help me. Skitts, 1/2 of Skittery's Bad Mood


	2. chapter 2

Disclaimer: ditto

Chapter 2:

Snoddy opened his eyes to the sound of two distinct voices, arguing.

"You can't sip soup wit' a knife, Dutchy," Specs said coldly. There was a clang and then a shout.

"Now lookit. Ya messed up me best shirt," Dutchy groaned.

"Its time ya got a new one anyway."

"I can't afford a new one. _You_ ruined it. _You_ buy me a new one."

"It ain't ruined. Look." It was quiet for a moment and then, "see? It's almost like nothin' was ever there."

"Specs! Ya made it bigger!"

"I did not."

"Did too!" Snoddy heard heavy footsteps heading toward the washroom. The washroom door slammed shut, and Snoddy winced. The sound hurt his ears, and he groaned.

"You're awake!" Specs's grinning face was suddenly right beside his own, and Snoddy struggled to sit up.

"Heya Specs."

Specs seemed to wince along with him as Snoddy slowly raised himself to a sitting position. "Where is everyone?"

"Out sellin'. Where else would they be?"

"Skittery too?"

"A' course. He don't get the day off just 'cause you do."

"Why are _you_ here?"

"Me an' Dutchy volunteered ta stay an' look after ya. Skittery tried, but he was here all yesterday and Kloppman said he had ta sell today."

As though he had just heard his name and felt the need to make a spectacular entrance, the washroom door slammed open once again, and Dutchy stepped out with an air of victory. A large wet spot was visible on the front of his shirt.

"I got it off!" he announced proudly. He suddenly noticed Snoddy and made a mad dash to kneel on the opposite side of the bed from Specs. "You're awake!" he said. "We was worried. Wasn't we worried, Specs? We brought ya soup!"

Specs snapped and then turned away, his voice muffled slightly as he said, "I forgot." He turned back around carefully with a bowl of soup cradled in his hands. "It ain't hot no more," he apologized, setting it gently in Snoddy's lap.

"And there ain't no spoon," added Dutchy, fixing Specs with a glare.

"What?" Specs shrugged. "It ain't _my_ fault!"

"Thanks guys," Snoddy mumbled. He attempted to lift his arms but the pain was too much and he gave up. Specs and Dutchy stared at him. "I ain't that hungry."

"Course youse hungry," Dutchy said, matter of factly. "You ain't had a thing ta eat in two days."

"What are ya on about? I had breakfast..." he trailed off. "Two days?"

"Yeah. So you gonna tell us what happened to ya or not?"

"I..." Snoddy paused as a flood of memory washed over him. "They was throwin' fruit at me."

"Who?" Specs pressed.

"I dunno. A big crowd of people. And this guy in the middle was sayin' stuff 'bout how newsies and orphans and bums are evil and stuff. Then they, well, they just attacked me."

"Just like dat?" Dutchy asked, his face slightly pinker than before.

"Well, I might o' said stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Nothin' ta kill me over. And I'm sure that's what they was tryin' for." He stared bitterly at the bowl of soup in his lap. "I gotta get outta here," he mumbled. "I need some air."

...

Mush stared down the alley, and then back at Skittery. "Don't do it," he said. "There's too many."

Skittery narrowed his eyes and then pushed his papers at Mush who struggled to balance the unexpected weight. Mush sighed as Skittery pushed up his sleeves and stomped toward the alley, his stick held tightly in his left hand. He couldn't let Skittery go in there alone. He would be killed. Not that Mush would help the effort much; six big guys against two not as big guys were not good odds. Mush glanced around frantically for Blink, who was busy making a "business" deal with a group of giggling ladies.

"What have we here?" The voice turned Mush's attention back to the alley. One of the guys had turned away from the old man that the group had been attacking to stare at Skittery.

"Why don't ya pick on someone who can actually fight back?" Skittery spat.

"Is that an invitation?"

Mush couldn't see it, but he knew Skittery was grinning and at that instant, he made his decision. He discarded the pile of papers at the mouth of the alley and ran until he was standing right beside Skittery. "Took ya long enough," Skittery mumbled.

Mush shrugged.

The tall boy across from them called for the others. They abandoned the old man, who was now curled up, groaning pathetically.

Skittery cracked his knuckles and then turned to Mush. "Ready?" he asked.

Mush nodded. "Let's do this." Then they charged. The fight that ensued really was the most painful fight Mush had found himself in. Most of the time, he knew better than to pick a fight when the odds were three to one, but reason had deserted him, and now he found himself with a bloody and most likely broken nose.

He heard Skittery swear loudly beside him and he knew Skittery was getting it just as badly as he was. "Hold 'im," a boy with dark blond hair and a dirty face ordered. Mush felt a pair of arms wrap around his chest, leaving his stomach open.

He started to kick as the blond boy came closer, but another boy, this one with messy brown hair knocked him to his knees. He hit the ground hard and knew his knees would be torn up from the blow. Then the blond boy began to pummel Mush's stomach and Mush found it harder and harder to breathe. The pain was almost unbearable, and he wanted to cry out. He heard Skittery raging again beside him, and then a voice that made him feel as though he had been saved.

Blink was a blur as he leapt at the blond boy. The boy holding his arms released him to aid the blond boy and Mush fell to the ground, coughing. He looked to his right where he knew Skittery was and was surprised to see the older boy doing rather well. His face was bloody but he already had one of his foes on the ground. Mush pulled himself to his feet once he had gained his breath back and then launched himself at the nearest boy, the one who had knocked him off his feet. Once he had him on the ground, he punched him as hard as he could in the nose. If Mush was going to suffer, everyone would suffer. The boy beneath him groaned. Mush climbed off of him and hurried to help fight off one of the two that were still attacking Skittery.

Skittery looked worse than he had seconds before. His left arm, his good arm, was dangling lifelessly at his side as he struggled to fight right handed. Mush noticed Skittery's abandoned stick off to the side and he picked it up.

He had spent many afternoons in the hot sun playing stickball in the streets with the other boys, and finally it would all pay off. He aimed the stick at the boy's head, and then swung with all his might. There was a loud crack as the stick made contact with the boy's skull and the boy slumped to the ground.

The three boys still fighting turned to stare at their fallen comrade, and then at Mush who swung the stick menacingly.

"Scram," ordered the blond boy. Two of the boys struggled to pick up the one Mush had knocked out, or killed, he didn't really know, and the three others rushed out of the alley.

"Way ta go Mush," Blink congratulated his friend, clapping him on the back. Blink didn't look all that bad. His eye would be black by nightfall but other than that, he looked perfectly normal. Skittery on the other hand, looked awful. Now that Mush actually had time to observe his friend, he noticed a lot more than he had during the fight. His face was covered in blood, mostly from his nose and a cut above his eye, and a layer of dirt. The area around his mouth was swollen and he was still having difficulty moving his left arm.

"You awright?" Mush asked him.

Skittery spit a mouthful of blood onto the dirty ground and then yanked his stick from Mush's hand. "I'm fine," he snapped. Then he skulked further down the alley where the old man still lay. Mush, after all of his damages had been looked over by Blink, followed.

The old man had his hands raised above him defensively as Mush and Blink approached. "If you touch me," the man whined, "God will strike you down!" Skittery laughed bitterly.

"He'll strike down the guy that saved your neck instead o' the ones tryin' ta break it? I think you're workin' for the wrong guy, old man."

The man let the words sink in before lowering his hands. He scrounged up whatever ounce of dignity he had left and climbed unsteadily to his feet. He glanced at Mush and Blink and then at Skittery, who still had his stick poised as though about to attack. It was clear from the expression on the man's face that he was truly frightened of Skittery. Mush didn't blame him. Skittery could be scary, especially when he was in a bad mood. He'd been in a bad mood all week.

Then suddenly the man's eyes widened. "I have just witnessed a vision."

Skittery stepped backward as the man reached out for him. "I have seen a future for you, son!"

"Get off me," Skittery smacked the man's hands away and then looked to Mush and Blink for help. They were at his side in an instant.

"You don't understand, boy! I can offer you riches beyond anything in your dreams. A nice place to sleep, a fireplace to keep you warm, and hot meals anytime you want them!" He latched himself onto Skittery's arm and Mush tried to pry him off. Skittery looked panicked.

"Think of it! You wouldn't have to sell papers anymore. No more fights, no more—"

"What about them?" Skittery interrupted. He motioned to Mush and Blink. The man shook his head. "They will perish like the scum they are, but you! You! Are destined for great things, my boy. God has shown it to me." Mush and Blink started toward the old man, but Skittery held them back.

"Well, you can tell him I already gots a job." Skittery wrenched his arm loose of the old man's grip, tearing his sleeve in the process.

"Please," the man pleaded. "You will be greatly rewarded for your services. Protecting a man of God is the highest form of service to the Almighty. My personal body guard," the man looked up at Skittery through a cracked monocle and searched him with light blue eyes. "God wills it. Think of how it would feel to be always in the presence of a man of God!"

"What's going on here!" A voice behind them startled them and they turned around to see who it belonged to. An officer was walking toward them, his night stick drawn and dangling loosely in his fingers. "There a problem?" He addressed the question to the old man.

"No sir. No problem here."

"Are you boys alright?" He asked Skittery, Blink and Mush. They all nodded, and after a quick once over the officer turned back to the old man. "I thought I told you not to come back here, Loffstetter."

"You did, but God sent me here, and he outranks you I'm afraid."

The officer grunted and then raised his night stick threateningly. "Do your business and get out! I don't want to see you anywhere near these boys."

The old man nodded and then turned to Skittery. "Think about what I said, son." The he disappeared down the alley. The officer turned to Skittery. "What was that all about?"

"He offered me a job," Skittery replied. The officer stared at him for a second. "What!" Skittery snapped. "I didn't take it!"

The officer addressed his next words at Mush and Blink. "Why don't you boys get back home. I need to have a talk with your friend here."

Blink shook his head. "We ain't leavin' him."

"He'll be fine, I promise." After a few more protests and then an "it's alright guys, go on ahead" from Skittery, Mush and Blink relented. As they exited the alley Mush glanced back over his shoulder. The officer didn't seem mad. He expressed that much to Blink who shrugged. "Yeah well, if he don't come home tonight, we know who to go after."

...

Blink could tell Snoddy was nervous. He was participating in a round of five card stud with Snitch and Dutchy. Occasionally, he would glance at the window. Snitch took advantage of Snoddy's distraction and leaned over to look at Snoddy's cards. "I fold," he mumbled. Dutchy quickly threw more change on the table and then called. Snoddy won the hand with a pair of kings.

Snoddy didn't relish in his victory like the other boys would have done. Instead, he stared at the large pot and would have continued to stare if the door hadn't slammed open right then. Skittery stepped inside followed closely by a cop. Everyone froze, except Snitch who grabbed something off of the table quickly and hid it in his lap.

"Evenin' boys." The cop greeted. He pushed Skittery forward slightly and then said in a low voice, "think about what I said."

Skittery nodded and then, without looking at anyone, lowered his face and hurried through the front room toward the stairs. Blink watched Snoddy rise from his chair and follow him.

"Is Kloppman around?" The cop asked.

Several boys nodded, but it was Specs who finally hollered for the old man. Specs received a few punches for his outburst, but eventually, Kloppman appeared. "What in the name o' Pete is wrong with you, boy?" he scolded Specs as he stepped toward the officer. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to have a word with you," the officer paused to look around at the boys. "Outside, if that's alright."

"Yeah sure," Kloppman said. He and the officer disappeared out the door. Dutchy and Snitch dug into Snoddy's discarded pile, and Mush went to the door and put his ear against it, listening.

"Too quiet," he mumbled, giving up. "Anyone up for a round a poker?"

...

Skittery let the cool, night air wash over him as he settled onto the fire escape. He pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned his head against them.

"Alright?"

Skittery nodded. He didn't have to look up to know who the voice belonged to. "I'm glad you're feelin' better," he said, turning his head slightly so that his words wouldn't sound muffled.

"Me too. I been tryin' ta convince Kloppmann ta let me sell tomorrow, but..." he trailed off.

Skittery unburied his face and turned to look at his friend. He inwardly laughed at the thought that they matched now, both bruised and broken. "I got into a fight today," he said with a hint of pride.

"Blink told me. If ya ask me though, ya shoulda let those guys kill the ol' geezer." There was a tinge of annoyance in his voice, and Skittery didn't like it. "I ain't mad though," he continued. "If that's what you're thinkin'."

"If I had known who it was, I woulda..."Skittery paused. He honestly didn't know if he would have let the beating continue.

"You have a savin' people thing," Snoddy finished for him. "Someone's in trouble, its Skittery to the rescue."

"Come on, Snoddy. It ain't like that."

"Yeah it is." It was silent for a few minutes.

Then Snoddy produced a cigarette from his pocket. Skittery looked at it as though someone had placed a Christmas feast in front of him. "Snitch snitched it for me today. Said it was a 'welcome awake' present."

Skittery laughed as Snoddy proceeded to light the end of the cigarette. He took a long drag and then handed it to Skittery. "So, what's goin' on with the officer bringin' ya home an' stuff?"

Skittery shrugged. "Nothin'."

Snoddy realized that was the only answer he would get from Skittery, so he yielded. "There's some weird stuff goin' on," Snoddy mumbled. Skittery nodded handing back the cigarette.

"I think its gonna get worse before it gets better."

The two boys sat in silence, watching the smoke from the shared cigarette drift lazily into the night sky and dissipate into nothingness.

A/N: sorry it took so long guys! Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers!


	3. chapter 3

Diclaimer...ditto...

Chapter 3:

Two days later, Snoddy wasn't going to take no for an answer. "I ain't stayin' here another day," he stated, with a hint of finality to his tone, and then he followed Skittery out the lodging house door. Kloppman didn't bother trying to stop him again. If the boy thought he was better, than Kloppman would let him sell, despite the doctor's orders.

They traipsed through the mucky streets toward the distribution office, where a few of the boys, already with papers in hand, were milling about discussing possible headlines. "There he is," Racetrack's all too familiar voice sounded more angry than friendly as he pushed his way through the crowd of newsies. He came to a halt just in front of Skittery and shoved a paper at the taller boy's chest. "Nice job," he spat.

Skittery looked at the short Italian curiously and then unfolded the paper. "What'd I do?" he asked, skimming through the articles for any hint he could find.

"Page three. Near the bottom," Racetrack supplied coldly, lighting a cigar.

Skittery flipped to the aforementioned page and scanned the article. Snoddy read it over his shoulder. "What's that got ta do with Skittery?" Snoddy asked.

"Think, stupid," Racetrack growled. Snoddy made a move toward him, but Skittery put a hand out to hold him back.

"What? You think I did this?"

"Skittery was at the lodging house all night," Snoddy said.

"I ain't sayin' he done it personally, stupid."

"Then what _are_ you sayin', Race?"

"I'm sayin' if it hadn't o' been for you tryin' ta be so heroic all the time, that fire wouldn't o' happened." A few of the other newsies had gathered around the trio and listened in on the conversation curiously. "That ol' geezer you saved yesterday was the leader of the mob that started the fire."

"What? I saved a guy's life, and all of a sudden, _I'm_ the bad guy? What about Blink and Mush? They were there! They helped!"

"They helped _you_, Skittery. They couldn't o' cared less about that ol' man. If it hadn't o' been for you, that ol' guy would be layin' in a gutter somewhere, and we would have nothin' ta worry 'bout."

Skittery felt his face grow red and he clenched his fists at his sides. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Jack pushed his way through the crowd of newsies just then loaded down with an armful of papers. "What's goin' on here?" he asked, directing the question at Racetrack, who looked cool and collected, puffing on his cigar.

"Why dontcha ask Skittery?" Racetrack replied

"No. Ask Racetrack. Maybe _you_ can figure out why he's blamin' some fire on me!"

Jack looked down at Racetrack expectantly.

"You know dat ol' warehouse where all the bums sleep when it's cold?" Jack nodded, an eyebrow raised. "They found it this mornin' burned to a crisp. The bums inside burned up too."

"You think Skittery started the fire?"

"No, but he let that ol' man live, and that ol' man started the fire. You watch! It'll be the lodgin' house next!" A murmur swept through the crowd.

"Come on, Race. It ain't Skittery's fault. He did what anyone would o' done," Blink said. He put a hand on Racetrack's shoulder, but Racetrack shook it away. Mush, from his spot beside Blink, looked from face to face with a worried expression.

"_I_ wouldn't a rescued no murderer!" Racetrack spat.

"I didn't know who he was!" Skittery shouted back. He took a step toward Race, but Jack put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"What happened, happened," he said. "It ain't no one's fault but the guys that done it. You two, stay away from each other. Get outta here."

The group dispersed on Jack's command, though Racetrack and Skittery lingered slightly longer to exchange a few choice words to one another.

"Do you think I made a mistake?" Skittery asked Snoddy later as they left the gates and headed toward the inner city.

Snoddy remained silent.

"Ya do, don't ya?"

"I dunno, Skittery. I just..." he trailed off. Skittery walked a little bit faster, and Snoddy, still a little sore, had to jog to keep up. "Don't get mad. I dunno what I think. But what's done is done. Like Jack said."

"I figured at least _you'd_ be on my side," Skittery mumbled.

"I am. Look, I don't blame ya for that fire."

Snoddy wanted to say more, to make sure things were still good between them, but words failed him and they reached their destination in silence. "You take this side," Skittery mumbled. Stick in hand, he crossed the busy street with his small pile of papers.

...

"Lookit dis!" Snitch shoved a paper toward Blink. Blink stared at it.

"What am I lookin' at exactly?"

Snitch pointed to a small article near the bottom of the page. Blink scanned it quickly.

"What's it say?" Pie Eater asked.

"It says dat guy is holdin' a meetin' in town day after tomorrow," Snitch informed them. "Dey's havin' it in dat old church on the East side."

"I say we lock 'em in and burn the place down," suggested Racetrack. He didn't look up from the cards in his hand as he said it and Blink felt shivers travel down his spine as he realized the dark haired newsie was serious.

"Why don't we just go down there and see what this guy's all about," proposed Itey.

"Are you crazy?" Skittery asked, incredulously. "A whole building full o' people that hate us? Yeah. That's smart."

"Almost as smart as helpin' out a murderer, huh Skitts?"

Skittery stood up, knocking his chair over in the process. "Let's finish this now, Race." Racetrack ignored the threat and turned his attention instead to Blink who said, "he gots a point."

"Look what they did ta me," Snoddy said, bitterly. "And that was just a little crowd."

"There are more of us now. We can fight back," said Pie Eater.

"Going there is suicide," Specs said. Dutchy nodded his agreement. Skittery seemed satisfied that most people were on his side. He straightened his chair and then sat back down.

"I never had you all figured for yellow bellies," Racetrack said. The statement caused a chaotic outburst. Everyone spoke at once and their voices grew louder as they tried to talk over each other to be heard. It went on for a few minutes until...

"What is going on here?" A voice roared over the chaos, and somehow it was heard by everyone. They quieted themselves immediately as Kloppman stepped into the room. "What in blazes are you arguing about?"

"Nothin'." Racetrack answered.

"That didn't sound like nothing."

"Dat's what it was," said Snitch. Kloppman looked the boys in their eyes and then narrowed his own. "If I hear one more outburst like that, you're all sleeping outside, and you ain't getting your money back."

He slammed the door when he left and the boys knew his threats were idle, but they respected Kloppman so they lowered their voices.

"No one's goin' ta that meetin'," Skittery said.

"I'd like ta see you try an' stop me," Racetrack said smugly.

"I will if I hafta."

"Please stop it, you two," Mush said. He sounded annoyed, which was unusual for Mush. Skittery relented.

"I'm goin' ta bed," he said. Without another word, he stomped up the stairs and disappeared into the bunk room.

...

"Anyone seen Skittery?" Itey looked around the room. "He owes me two bucks."

"I ain't seen him since this afternoon," Specs informed him. "Said he had stuff ta do."

"He's probably out with his murderer friend planning—"

"Enough already Race," Blink scolded. "He feels bad already without you gettin' on him all the time."

Racetrack scowled and then stood up. "I dunno 'bout all o' youse but I'm goin' ta that meetin'."

"Don't," Mush said. "They'll kill you."

"Not if they don't see me. Snitch and I staked out the place earlier. We can listen from the attic."

"Don't be stupid, Race. It's too dangerous. Remember what happened to Snoddy?"

"Snoddy messed up. He _let_ them know he was there."

"Great. Now I suppose it's me own fault I almost got killed, huh?" Snoddy snapped. Race hadn't realized Snoddy was in the room until that moment.

Race ignored him and moved to get his coat. "Anyone with me?"

No one moved for a moment and when Race was about to leave alone, Pie Eater stood up. "I'm comin'," he said.

"Me too," said Snitch. Itey stood up as well.

Mush and Blink exchanged glances. Mush sighed in defeat. "Just be careful guys," he said quietly. He watched them disappear through the door.

Racetrack shivered when they stepped outside. The nights were getting colder and as they made their way silently toward the old church, Racetrack could see his breath. He buried his hands deep in his pockets. Itey did the same beside him.

The journey was a noiseless one.

When they reached the church, people were already pouring out of the front door, buzzing excitedly about the meeting. Race cursed and then he and his three companions ducked behind headstones that jutted from the ground of the cemetery they found themselves in.

"We're too late," Itey whispered.

"It had to have got out early," Racetrack muttered. "Come on, boys. Let's go back before..." Suddenly he was standing straight up, his gaze fixed on something ahead of him.

"What is it?" Snitch asked. The others crowded around him, trying to remain hidden in the darkness of the shadows. Racetrack's face had turned dark. "That traitor..." he mumbled. He started forward, but Pie Eater grabbed his arms and pulled him back.

"What are ya doin', Race?" he hissed.

"I'll show him..." Race pointed and the others stared at the dispersing crowd to see what Race was pointing at. Then Snitch gasped and his eyes grew wide.

"No. Dat ain't him. It can't be him."

Itey narrowed his eyes, and Pie Eater released his grip on Racetrack's sleeve.

Standing alone just outside the large oak doors of the church, hands tucked deep in his pockets, was Skittery.


	4. chapter 4

Disclaimer: Da usual

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I go to this place called a University and they make me do all kinds of crazy stuff like essays and paintings and portfolios...it sucks!

Please keep your hands, arms legs, and mouth off of Skittery until I am finished with him.

Chapter 4:

Pie Eater's words hung heavily in the air as an uncomfortable silence fell over the inhabitants of the lodging house.

Less than five minutes before, there had been a loud bang as the front door swung open, and then Skittery was thrown inside forcefully. He landed against the sign- in desk, behind which sat Kloppman. Kloppman had been at Skittery's side in a second to assess the damage. Then he looked up at Skittery's attackers and demanded an explanation.

Pie Eater had done the honors as soon as Skittery was on his feet again.

"He was at the meetin'," Pie Eater had said.

It took a moment for the words to sink in and then suddenly there was an outburst, some defended Skittery while others stared incredulously. Kloppman yelled loudly for silence and when they had quieted, he asked Pie Eater for the whole story.

"There ain't much to tell," Pie Eater said. "We went there, and he was there, but he weren't there like we were, he was actually inside. Race watched 'im come out."

Racetrack nodded, an unlit cigar protruding from his mouth.

"So den we grabbed 'im and brung 'im here," said Snitch.

"Why were you there?" Specs inquired, his eyes fixed on Skittery who had yet to say anything in his own defense, and whose eyes were fixed intently upon the floor. Skittery shrugged.

"I say we soak 'im, den send 'is broken body to his newsie-hatin' friends," Racetrack suggested.

Kloppman stepped in front of Skittery. "Nobody's gonna soak anybody," he said. "I think he deserves a chance to defend hisself." He looked pointedly at Skittery then and for the first time that night, Skittery looked up.

"You was spyin' right?" asked Blink, hopefully. His smile faded when Skittery shook his head.

When he spoke, it was quiet and the others had to lean forward to hear him. "I just wanted ta hear what he had ta say."

"I coulda told ya what he had ta say," Snoddy snapped. He removed himself from the nook beneath the staircase, his usual brooding spot, and stepped forward to glare at his best friend. "You're real lucky they didn't see ya like they did me."

"They saw me," Skittery said. "Jacob Loffstetter, calls hisself a prophet, he talked ta me. Offered me a job again."

"You didn't take it," Dutchy said, though his statement seemed like more of a question.

Skittery shrugged. "Told him I'd think 'bout it."

"Why you—" Snoddy cut himself off before he pushed Skittery backward into the desk, and after regaining his composure, Skittery countered by punching Snoddy in the jaw. Snoddy reeled backward into Blink and Mush who caught him before he could fall over and then held him back when he lunged for Skittery.

"That's enough!" Kloppman growled, holding Skittery tightly around his chest. "Everyone up to bed, now." His voice was loud and angry, as he barked the order. Snoddy pulled himself free of his restraints and then stomped up the stairs. The others were hesitant to obey.

"I ain't sleepin' in the same room as no murderer lover," said Racetrack. He looked Skittery in the eye as he said it, and had Kloppman not been holding onto Skittery, there would have undoubtedly been a brawl.

"Then you can sleep outside, Racetrack," Kloppman said. "He paid his fee just like the rest of you."

"Don't bother," Skittery growled, yanking away from Kloppman's grip. "I'm outta here."

"You can't be serious," Mush said, as Skittery stomped to the corner of the room where his stick lay.

"Why would I wanna stay in a place where no one trusts me, huh?"

"I trust you!"

"Yeah well, no one else does, and I don't wanna get killed in my sleep, awright." He made the mistake of looking at Mush then. Mush always looked so vulnerable. He had the same effect on Skittery that Itey normally did.

"Look, I can protect ya," said Mush. "Me an' Blink, we'll stay up all night with you."

"Thanks, Mush. But it's probably better if I just leave."

"Let him go Mush," said Racetrack. "Go off an' be with your new friends."

Skittery shook his head and then pulled the front door open. Before stepping through it, he pulled Mush closer. "Keep an eye out on Snoddy, awright?"

"Sure thing," Mush mumbled. Skittery was grateful that at least one of his friends didn't hate him. Maybe Mush would convince the others to change their minds also.

He pulled the door shut behind him and then started walking.

...

Skittery squinted at the paper in his hand under the dim lamp light. _See me when you need someone who cares_ was scrawled across the tiny paper in a delicate and ornate cursive that Skittery almost couldn't read. Below it was simply "34th street. Number 27."

He shoved the paper back into his pocket and stared up at the dingy house looming over him. The house was one of the biggest he had ever seen, but it wasn't fancy like all of the other ones. It was dirty with peeling paint, broken shutters, and upstairs railing that threatened to break loose at any second. Skittery had expected nothing less than a beautiful mansion with a great green lawn and a dozen servants. He was slightly disappointed as he raised his hand to the front door and knocked loudly.

The door opened a crack and a woman stared at him, curiously. Skittery removed his hat immediately and tried to smile. She looked appalled at his appearance, but he couldn't blame her. He hadn't looked into a mirror but from the way his face hurt, he knew he looked bad. "Uh, hi ma'am. I'm here ta see Mr. Loffstetter. He around?"

The woman smiled. "Are you the boy he met in town the other day?"

Skittery nodded. The woman opened the door and led him inside. "He told me he was expecting you." Once inside, Skittery got a chance to get a good look at the woman. She was young, but much older than Skittery, with more wrinkles than were necessary. Her stringy brown hair was coming loose from a bun at the nape of her neck, and she was short. She dressed in a simple brown dress covered by an apron, which she wiped her hands on before turning back to Skittery. "You'll have to forgive Jacob," she said. "He's practicing a sermon right now, and he hates to be disturbed." Skittery opened his mouth, intent on asking her if he could come back later, but she spoke first. "You can wait in his study." She grabbed his arm and led him down the hall where she pushed him into a large room. "I'll get a bath ready for you, you look so miserable. I'll get you some fresh clothes too."

Skittery gaped at her. "Uh...thanks," he said.

"Go on, make yourself comfortable. I'll let Jacob know you're here once he's done."

Skittery didn't say anything as she left, closing the door behind her. After setting his stick up against the fireplace, Skittery sat down in a chair close to the crackling fire. He sighed contentedly as he sunk into it. He wondered if Loffstetter would let him sleep there.

Skittery felt his eyelids growing heavy when the door finally opened again, and Loffstetter stepped inside. "Ah. If it isn't my young savior," he greeted. Skittery moved to get up but Loffstetter held out a hand. "No need young man. I'll come to you." He stopped in front of Skittery and held out a hand which Skittery shook.

"I was wondering when you'd come to us."

"Yeah, well. I don't really have any other place ta go right now," Skittery said, bitterly. Loffstetter settled into the chair across from him, leaned slightly forward.

"That lodging house was no good for you anyway. Here you can be a gentleman." Loffstetter gestured around the room, grinning.

"If ya don't mind me askin', Mr. Loffstetter—"

"Please, son. Call me Jacob."

"Uh, Jacob. Why are ya doin' this for me? I thought ya hated people like me."

"Oh, I do, boy. I do, but only because God does. Because God wants a clean city, and it will never be so with the low lives that live here. But you, lad. I've seen you in a vision. It was destiny that you and I should meet. I will _make_ you great."

"But the others, couldn't ya make them great, too?"

"Oh, no. You are the one exception. You were never meant to roam the streets desperate and hungry—"

"But I ain't—"

"You were meant for greater things! You can get those things here. Let me help you. Son. Let me show you the light."

Skittery stared into the old man's light blue eyes, considering his proposal. He was confused and nervous. "Suppose I do this. My friends, you won't hurt them, will ya?"

"I cannot guarantee their safety at all times. You already know my policy. But I will personally never harm a hair on their heads."

There were a lot of reasons why he shouldn't shake the old man's hand. He could think of a dozen more reasons to turn around and run, but in the end, he stuck out his hand, and Jacob, grinning accepted it. "You can stay here as long as you want," Jacob said. "And since you're in such bad shape, I'd say the first order of business is to clean you up a little. I believe you met Anna earlier."

Skittery nodded as he and Jacob stood up. Skittery grabbed his stick, which Jacob eyed nervously before leading Skittery from the room. "Do you always carry that around?" Jacob asked.

Skittery nodded. "Mostly. It's safer."

Jacob still seemed uncomfortable at the explanation but he led Skittery up a long flight of stairs and into a hallway with about a dozen doors. "Whoa," Skittery said. He marveled at how large the place was as Jacob led him down hallway after hallway. Finally he stopped in front of a room, the door of it already open. Anna was inside, spreading a blanket over a bed.

"Is that for me?" Skittery asked.

Jacob nodded, pleased with Skittery's reaction. "It just occurs to me, boy. I don't know your name."

"Skittery," he replied. "That's what my friends call me."

"Well, I most certainly will not call you that, especially in civilized company. What's your real name? The one your mother gave you."

Skittery racked his brain, trying to remember what the nuns had called him in the orphanage. "James," he said finally, not sure if it was his real name or not. A lot of the boys in the orphanage had been called James.

"Is there a last name as well?"

Skittery blurted out the first name that came to his mind, one he'd read just that morning in the papers. "Caufield."

"Very well, James. Anna has prepared a bath for you in the room next door. There are fresh clothes there on the dresser that I expect you to wear tomorrow morning. You'll attend school during the day, and have lessons with me in the evenings. I'll have someone wake you for breakfast. Now get to it."

"Do I hafta go ta school?"

"If you want to remain here, yes. You have a terribly unpleasant lack of manners and I intend to fix that. Good night, James."

"'Night."

Skittery waited for Jacob to leave before turning toward the room next door. The door was open and through it he noticed a large tub, full of steaming water.

"Get undressed now," said Anna behind him. He jumped slightly and then blushed at her request. "Look ma'am I ain't here ta—"

"So I can wash them, James," she explained, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Oh." Skittery's face was on fire. "Uh. Could ya turn around?" he asked.

She chuckled, amused, and then replied, "Just go in there and do it. Toss your clothes out when you're finished."

"Awright." Skittery stepped into the adjacent room and started to close the door, but Anna's voice stopped him again.

"James?"

"Yeah."

"Don't forget to wash behind your ears."

An hour later, Skittery was nestled beneath the heavy blanket on his bed, the most comfortable bed he'd ever slept in. Despite the pleasant sleeping conditions, though, his sleep was fitful and when he awoke the next morning in a cold sweat, breathing heavily, he felt utterly confused.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Never EVER go to college…just kidding…sorry it took so long…

Chapter 5:

Skittery knew the house as though he'd lived there his entire life. When he entered the drawing room, a little boy was kneeling in front of the fireplace, on the warm wooden floor, squinting in the pale light at the small print in a thick book. _Too thick for him_, thought Skittery. He moved closer, but just as he did, another figure stepped inside, this one a taller version of the boy, but wearing spectacles and sporting a thin mustache that curled up at the ends.

"Darling boy, what are you doing in here?" The man asked jovially, lifting the boy from the floor and then swinging him in the air. The boy squealed. "I was readin'!" he announced proudly when his father had set him down. He picked up the book and handed it to his father who studied the title. "A Brief History of the World," he read. "Well, it doesn't seem very brief does it? What are you so interested in the world for anyway?"

The boy shrugged. "Maybe I'll have to go there someday."

"Well then, it's best if you're going to see the world, you brush up on a bit of its important history, wouldn't you say?"

The boy nodded eagerly, and then after his father had settled into a big armchair beside the fireplace, he settled into the older man's lap. "Now, where did you leave off?"

The boy pointed.

"Oh, well, the very beginning is the best place to start anyway."

Skittery watched the man's mouth move, listened to the soothing and familiar voice as the words entered his ears. He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes closed. It started to grow colder suddenly and when Skittery opened his eyes, the fire had been doused, and the man and boy were gone. He heard a whimper behind him and he spun around to find himself lost in the darkness. "Who's there?" he called.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he made out a solitary figure huddled in the middle of the floor.

"Who are you?" he asked, stepping closer.

The figure turned its head and opened two large, frightened eyes, which Skittery could see clearly even the darkness. It was the boy. Skittery knelt down beside him. "Awright there?"

The boy stood up and held out a hand, which Skittery accepted.

They were in another room, this one dark and cold, but lighter than the previous one. The boy held Skittery's hand tightly and then with his left hand pointed toward the doorway. "Go look," he whispered.

Skittery didn't want to. He knew from the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach that whatever was through that doorway was not good. But the boy was insistent, and Skittery relented. His breathing grew heavier with every succeeding step, and his stomach was in knots.

When he reached the doorway, he hesitated. He turned back toward the boy, but he was gone. Skittery wanted to stop right there, to turn around and go back to the room with the fireplace and the boy and his father, but invisible hands seemed to be pushing through the doorway, and the more he struggled, the harder they pushed until he was in the adjacent room. He shut his eyes, and a horrendous smell filled his nostrils. He reached behind his blindly for the doorknob, but it seemed to have disappeared. As he felt for it in the darkness, the entire door seemed to have disappeared. Desperately, he cried for someone, anyone, to help him, but instead he heard a shrill scream from somewhere behind him, a woman's voice. Then there was a thud, more shouts, a scuffle, and then silence.

Skittery opened his eyes and found himself standing in front of the fireplace. Then Jacob was standing in front of him, a small grin on his lips. "Murderer," Jacob whispered. Skittery stepped backward, closer to the roaring fire. Jacob's eyes landed on Skittery's left hand, and when Skittery looked down, he was clutching a bloody knife. "No," he said. The knife, wet with warm blood, slipped from his shaking hand, and clanged against the bare wood floor.

Skittery sat up, drenched in a cold seat, his breathing heavy, and his heart pounding furiously in his chest.

"I'm sorry," said a voice. It was a female voice, one he'd heard before. "I didn't mean to startle you," the woman said. Skittery took in his surroundings as his vision focused and his eyes adjusted in the dim morning light. He remembered where he was when he saw Anne's unruly red hair at the foot of his bed. Her face looked fresh and her eyes wide and shiny as she apologized again. "Clumsy me. I dropped my pitcher and I'm afraid I've smashed it to pieces." She smiled. "Hurry and get dressed James. Jacob doesn't like to wait breakfast."

Skittery nodded, and then untangled himself from his blankets. He stumbled toward the bureau where his new clothes were pile neatly. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had the same face as his father; it was something he'd forgotten. He didn't know why he was suddenly dreaming about things he'd spent so many years trying to bury, to forget.

He noticed that Anne had managed to get a little bit of water into the basin before she'd dropped the pitcher. He made use of a nearby wash cloth, soaked it in the cold water and then draped it over his face.

After a few minutes, he collected his thoughts, and then, dressed in the clothes that Jacob had provided, headed downstairs for the first hot breakfast he'd had in months.

…

"Something wrong?"

"Nah."

"James, I have never in my many years on this planet seen a boy your age turn down food, especially when _I_ have done the cooking." Anne sat down in the chair beside him, staring intently at the side of his face, willing him to face her.

He continued his study of the tablecloth and remained silent. She opened her mouth to speak again, no doubt more probing questions, when Jacob appeared in the room looking hurried. He pulled at the knot in his tie, and in record time, downed a large glass of water.

His attention turned to Skittery. "I trust you know the way to your school by now," he said. "I unfortunately cannot drive you today as I am late for a meeting of utmost importance. Don't dawdle home this afternoon like you usually do. We have a cleansing."

Then, just as Skittery opened his mouth to ask what a cleansing was, Jacob was gone. They heard the front door slam shut a minute later. "What's a cleansing?" Skittery asked Anne.

"Now you want to talk, do you?" She started to clear the breakfast dishes from the table, and Skittery helped, hoping his assistance would make her more willing to answer his questions.

She dodged the question entirely. Instead, she explained to him why Jacob was the way he was. "He's really quite brilliant, you know." Skittery tuned her out for awhile and when he started paying attention again, she was on a tirade about how bad people always do bad things. "You can't really take the bad out of them. Take Martin Gerloff…"she trailed off.

Skittery looked up at her. "Who's that?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I shouldn't have said anything. He was a bad man."

Skittery tried to press her for more details but she stubbornly refused to tell him anything. "You're going to be late for school if you don't hurry." She pushed him out of the kitchen and to the front hall where he grabbed his coat. "Remember what Jacob said, no dawdling."

"Yeah yeah." She kissed him on the cheek and then sent him on his way.

Skittery didn't go to school that day. The truth was he hadn't gone to school at all. Jacob dropped him off by the big wrought iron gate every morning, and then drove away without a glance backward. Skittery was grateful for that and used the opportunity to steal away and explore this new section of town.

Today, however, he had specific business, and hurried into town to find an old friend.

…

Jacob was waiting for him inside the door that afternoon, a pile of black material in his arms. "I told you not to be late," he said calmly.

"Sorry, sir. I—"

"What's all that?"

Skittery looked down at the pile of papers in his hands. "Uh…just for practicin' my letters."

"That's a good lad. I always love to see a young mind so indulged in his studies." Jacob seemed to remember then that there was a reason he had told Skittery to hurry home. He shoved the material into Skittery's arms and said, "hurry upstairs and put this on." Skittery did as he was told.

Skittery felt like he was drowning in the robe. He felt small and vulnerable and wanted nothing more than to take the offending article of clothing off. When he emerged again at the base of the stairs, Jacob stood there, dressed in the same black robe, talking with another man who seemed vaguely familiar.

"Ah, James. This is Peter. He is the newest member of our congregation, and will be joining us in our endeavors tonight." Skittery shook Peter's hand and then followed the two men through the door.

He wanted his stick, but Jacob had confiscated it on his first day of school claiming that "such precautions are foolish and unnecessary." He had assured Skittery that he would not need to defend himself at school. Educated children were civilized after all. Skittery didn't believe him, and that was why he had opted to skip school altogether. In the long run, he decided, it would be safer.

The three men crammed themselves into the back of the horse drawn carriage. "I've heard the most glorified compliments of your organization Jacob and I wanted nothing more than to be a part of it."

Jacob beamed. "I only do what the Lord asks."

"Those street rats deserve what they get. A woman named Abigail Thompson told me she saw the whole lot of them sharing a bottle of whiskey behind the church house. Of all places!"

Skittery gulped. He'd gone with his friends plenty of times to churchyards to share a bottle of stolen liquor, compliments of Snitch. They figured it would be the safest place not to get caught. Who would suspect anyone of drinking stolen liquor on holy ground? Skittery felt a pang of dread creep through him. He hoped silently that they were not going to the lodging house.

All too soon, the carriage stopped and Skittery was outside again. It was dark, and a group of a dozen or so other men, all donning the same black robes, stood in a close group as Jacob lit a torch and then turned to address them.

"Brothers!" There was an outburst of applause. Skittery looked around at the cheering men, trying to recognize any of them. "We are gathered here on this fateful evening to continue the cleansing process of this city!" Another cheer. Jacob lowered his voice when he continued. "Sad to say, our villains tonight are a group of boys. Unmannered and uncultured, they participate in the dark activities that bring down this great city. Tonight, we shall rid the city of them! To Brooklyn!"

Skittery watched the men excitedly approach the carriages, unsure that he had heard Jacob correctly. They were going to Brooklyn?

Skittery found himself squished into the carriage again, this time Peter had been replaced by a large, burly man who smelled as though he'd had too much to drink. _We should cleanse him,_ Skittery thought to himself.

"Keep an eye on John, Jacob. I don't trust him and neither should you."

"I'll trust whom I see fit," Jacob replied. "I've heard of John's dealings with a certain bartender, and that cannot be overlooked."

"I heard he took in one of those orphan boys."

"Yes. We must deal with that issue as well." Jacob refused to look at Skittery for the rest of the trip.

"Why are we goin' to Brooklyn?" Skittery asked, suddenly. "Ain't that a different city? What's it got to do with Manhattan?"

"Who is this chump?" The large man asked. Skittery glared at him.

"I ain't no chump."

"Listen to him. He can't even talk right."

Skittery would have punched the man right then but he was squeezed between the two men so tightly, he wouldn't have gotten the desired effect.

Jacob laid a hand on Skittery's shoulder. "People from Brooklyn intermingle with people from all over New York. Brooklyn is a dirty city, dirtier than ours even. If we filter out the bad now, it will be easier to keep the good in our city."

"That don't make no sense."

"Maybe not right now, but in the long run, you'll see the effects."

Then Jacob addressed the large man. "This is my nephew, James, from Philadelphia. James, this is my business associate, Paul."

Paul grunted, and Skittery continued to glare at him. He could tell already that he and Paul were not going to have a good relationship.

The carriage lurched to a halt and Skittery felt himself being jostled around by the other men, all speaking in hushed tones. A few of them lit torches as Jacob called them into a circle. "John. You'll do the honors of locking the door and setting the flame." The man who was John nodded.

Skittery stared at the lodging house in front of him. On warm nights, the boys would have been sleeping on the docks not too far away, but on cold ones, a boy would be crazy to sleep outside.

Jacob gave whispered orders to the others who scattered around, silently creating barriers over the windows. Skittery heard stirring inside and searched frantically around for a way to warn the boys inside.

The boys inside were awake and pushing on the door when John reached for the lock. A heavy shove from inside knocked the door ajar and John struggled to hold it closed.

"Help me, boy!" John hissed at Skittery. Skittery shook his head.

"Don't be daft. Help me get this door locked." Skittery breathed heavily and he neared the door, and then saw his chance. The lock dangled in front of him.


	6. chapter 6

Disclaimer: _ibid_ (whoa dude, way too many research papers…)

A/N: Whoo!! School's out!

Chapter 6:

"How could they have escaped, John? You had a simple task. Lock the front door and then set the torch on it. One task and you failed completely."

"Blame the kid, Jacob. I was holding the door shut so the little varmints on the other side couldn't get out. They were pulling on that door something fierce."

"Peter, go and fetch the boy, will you?" Peter nodded at Jacob's command and dashed from the room. He was startled when he found Skittery just outside the door.

"Go in already," Peter pushed him into the room, and Skittery took his place next to Jacob.

"James. Thank you for coming with such haste. We have quite a predicament upon our shoulders at the moment so it is imperative that you do not lie to me. This man's fate rests in your hands."

Skittery looked from John to Peter to Jacob and then back again. "Whadda ya want me ta say?"

"Did you or did you not lock the front door of our cleansing site last night?"

"Did not."

"See! I told you!"

"It wasn't my job ta do it. I was settin' the torches just like everybody else."

"Liar!" John launched himself at Skittery, and Skittery, startled by the sudden attack, found himself lying on his back, with the older man hovering over him.

"Leave him alone, John," Jacob said gently. He reached down and lifted Skittery to his feet. "Make sure he stays put," Jacob ordered Peter. Peter stepped closer to Skittery, and even went so far as to place a hand on Skittery's shoulder. Skittery jerked free from the man's gesture, and stood, glaring at John with his arms folded across his chest, waiting to see what would happen.

"I'm afraid I have no choice but to cast you out," Jacob said. John's face grew pale and then a progression of pinks until it was bright red.

"You'll listen to a boy…an _orphan_ no less, rather than one of your oldest and dearest councilors?"

"I cannot work with a man I don't trust, and I've been questioning your loyalty for some time now. Come John, you knew we'd find out eventually didn't you?" John's face went pale again and his jaw went slack.

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

Jacob reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. Skittery stepped forward to get a better view, but felt a warning jerk on his vest. He wanted to punch Peter in the face more than anything, but for the sake of blowing his cover, he remained where he was.

"Where did you get that?" John demanded, reaching for the envelope.

"How many times have I told you, John? Trust no one but me." Jacob addressed his next statement at Peter. "Go tell the others we're ready for them."

Peter nodded and then disappeared. "John, I have for years spent my life studying the great book and its holy principles. The rules are the same for sinners as they are for us. We cleanse this great city of people contaminated by the evils of this sinful society, so that we can be lifted to heaven…am I right?"

John nodded. Skittery watched John's eyes grow wide with terror as just then, a group of men, the same ones from the cleansing the previous night stepped inside, adorned in their massive, black robes.

He watched in horror as they cuffed John and dragged him out of the room, his protests falling on deaf ears. His cries grew weaker as he was dragged down the hallway, and then they were silenced altogether when the front door slammed shut.

"Is he…?"

"A rule is a rule, James. I cannot hold my people to certain standards if my own councilors won't obey it, now can I?"

"This is all my fault…"

"Don't be foolish. John has had it coming for quite some time now. Last night only sealed our suspicions."

"What does the letter say?"

"Hmm? Oh! Yes, the letter. It's a short note from a good, respectable and trustworthy friend informing me that she saw John having drinks down at McKinley's bar not three blocks from here."

"That don't seem so bad…" Skittery mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothin'. I'm gonna go for a walk."

"Before you do, James. I have a matter to discuss with you."

Skittery gulped. He felt his heartbeat speed up.

"The annual school picnic is next Saturday. I want you to make sure Miss Nelson knows we're going to attend."

"Uh…yes, sir."

"Good. I look forward to hearing of your progress. Now go on your walk and don't be home too late."

Skittery nodded and then bolted from the room. He ran down the hallway, pulled open the front door, and took a deep breath in the fresh morning air. He'd gotten himself into a bigger mess than he had ever imagined possible, and more than ever, he wanted the help of his friends.

…

If Snoddy could have chosen anyone in the lodging to sneak around with, his last choice would have been Mush, and even then it would only have been in extreme circumstances.

Mush had the tendency to be clumsy.

"Oof!"

"Mush! Watch where you're goin' and keep quiet."

"It ain't my fault ya keep leadin' us into these alleys filled up to their tops in junk!"

Snoddy dove at Mush, placed a hand over his friend's mouth and watched intently as Jack turned around suddenly.

When their leader decided the coast was clear, he continued on his way, and Snoddy released Mush. "That was close," Mush said, breathing a sigh of relief. He stood up and brushed his clothes off and then trotted after Snoddy who was peering around the corner Jack had just disappeared behind.

"It was too close. No talking from here on out, got it?"

Mush grinned and nodded.

"Good. Follow me."

"I thought you said no talking…"

"No talking from _you_. Next time, I'm comin' alone."

Mush frowned but followed Snoddy in silence. A few minutes later their stalk-ee was standing outside the door of a large wooden shack, no doubt abandoned.

"Heya Chunks. Let me in ta se Spot." Jack said to the burly boy standing guard.

"Sure thing, Kelly."

Jack clapped the boy on the shoulder and then disappeared inside. The door shut loudly behind him.

"Well, oh great one, any good ideas?" Mush crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Snoddy's reply.

"We could always just ask 'im nicely. It worked for Jack."

"Yeah. That'd go over swell. Hey, kid, nice muscles, let us in, please?"

"You got a better idea?"

"Yeah. I do."

"Let's hear it then."

"I ain't s'posed ta talk, remember?"

"Yeah well, your mouth ain't been shut since we got here. What's the plan wise guy?"

"Follow me."

Snoddy watched warily for a second as Mush ducked behind a pile of broken wooden crates and crept back into the alley they had just exited.

"The goal is to get _inside_ the building, Mush," Snoddy said quietly, still following the newsie in front of him.

"Trust me, Snoddy." Snoddy followed him through a maze of alleys and found himself disoriented by the time they emerged on the side of their goal, the guard oblivious to their presence.

"Good move, Mush."

Mush grinned and then reached up to yank down the fire escape ladder. It creaked loudly as it slid to the ground, and the two boys ducked back into the alley just as the guard peered around the corner to find out what had caused the ruckus.

When the guard had left, the boys came out and climbed the fire escape stealthily. Once on the upper balcony, they climbed onto the roof, and in through a sky light. The floor of the upper room creaked beneath their feet as they left footprints in the deep dust that covered it. They crept to the edge of the floor where the wood ended in a drop off. Snoddy lay down on his stomach, and Mush followed suit.

When they were settled, they listened to the conversation below them.

"So you got a place ta stay then?" Jack asked.

"You're standin' in it, Jacky boy. Nice, huh?"

"You need a maid or somethin' in here."

Spot cracked a grin and then leaned forward. "I ain't called ya here for idle chit-chat Jacky boy." He tapped his silver tipped cane on the table between the two boys. "This guy that calls himself a prophet wants us dead and you know it."

Jack nodded. "He got one of my guys already. Soaked him pretty bad."

"Then you see why we gotta stop him."

"What can we do? This ain't like the strike, Spot."

"It's exactly like the strike, Jacky boy. We gotta rally the boys together again. If this prophet wants war, lets give him a war."

"How?"

There was silence for a moment and then another smile from Spot. "We already got a guy on the inside. He can help us."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"I heard one of your boys walked out on ya, Jack. Went and joined up with ol' Loffstetter and his boys."

"So?"

"So, maybe he ain't walked out on ya after all."

"Spot, make a point."

"I have been following this "prophet" since he started burnin' tenements in the Bronx. He's bad news. Always kills his victims the same way. He calls it, 'baptism by fire'. No one has ever escaped from him because he attacks when you're most vulnerable. He attacks at night, when you're sleepin'. Locks the doors, boards up the windows, and before you know it, you're dead." Spot stood up then, tucked his cane beneath his arm and began to pace in front of what remained of the fireplace.

"What does all this hafta do with—"

"We walked out of the lodgin' house through the front door, Jack. Loffstetter don't make mistakes like that. He plans things to the smallest detail, and that why there ain't been any survivors 'til now…that door wasn't just overlooked, Jack…"

Jack stared straight ahead, thinking for a time, and then he stood up, spit in his hand and held it out to Spot. "Whaddaya say we go round up the fellas?"


	7. chapter 7

Disclaimer: Ditto

A/N: sorry, just got back from central America and had no comp, no internet, no nothing.

Chapter 7:

Skittery had a headache, one that would not go away any time in the near future. He groaned pushing open a door marked "The Sun".

"I'm here to see Bryan Denton," he told a man wearing a vest and coke bottle glasses that was sitting at the front desk.

He looked Skittery over and then stood up. "Wait here," he said. Skittery watched him disappear into a room nearby. A minute later, the door opened again and both the man and Denton stepped out.

"Skittery, nice to see you. It's okay Paul. He's a personal friend of mine." Paul gave Skittery one last disapproving look and then settled back behind his desk while Denton beckoned Skittery inside.

"Please," he said. "Sit down."

"Denton, I need to ask you a favor."

"Before you do that, I wanted to show you something. I did a lot of research since our last visit…" his voice trailed off as he moved to his closet and pulled down a box filled to the top with old newspapers. He set the box down in front of Skittery. "If my boss finds out about this, I can get into a lot of trouble."

"I don't even know your boss, Denton."

"Good point. Here, let me show you what I found." He laid an article in front of Skittery. "Turns out your friend Jacob has a very long criminal record."

Skittery scanned the article briefly. "Why ain't he in jail for this?"

"There's a rumor that the judge in charge of his conviction was running in his circle. Whether or not that's true, I'm not sure." He pulled out a handful of articles and handed them to Skittery who leafed through them.

"He supposedly led his gang on a crime spree that spanned the course of six years, using the name John McLaughlin. They did it all, Skittery. Murder, robbery, everything."

"So how come the bulls don't just throw him in the slammer now?"

"Its all about evidence, Skittery. Sadly, our justice system has its faults…look at this. After Jacob's trial, when he was released, that was when his family was murdered. His daughter, apparently his pride and joy, married a poor Irish immigrant. When their first child was born, Jacob went mad. He never stopped harassing his son in law, ordering his daughter to leave him and marry someone suitable. When the boy, I think his name was Kingsley, was eight or so, the entire family was found murdered in their own home, the one Jacob resides at today."

"You found all of that in these papes?"

"Most of it. I had to do a little research elsewhere. See, most papers aren't given all the details of a story, so some of the history is a bit sketchy."

"Who murdered his family? Him?"

"No one knows. There were people lined up to prove that Jacob was away on a business trip when it happened, and he came home to see his daughter, that was when he found them."

Skittery leaned back in his chair. So much new information to think about.

"There is one more thing, Skittery." Skittery looked up. "According to some accounts, Loffstetter's daughter had another son, who went missing. They never found a body, or any evidence that he perished as well."

"So he could still be alive then."

Denton nodded. "There really wasn't much information on him, and most of the papers left him out of the story completely."

"How would you go about looking for someone?"

"I can talk to my boss, explain the situation. We can put an ad out maybe. I don't know how effective that would be considering this is a large country and for all we know, he could be holed up in the mines in California. Besides that, we have no idea what his name is, or how old he was."

"I guess it's a start though."

"Skittery, I'll help you any way that I can. If you come up with something, let me know."

"I will. Thanks Denton." Skittery stood up to leave.

"What was that favor you wanted to ask me about?"

"Oh…"

…

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Snoddy looked over the dilapidated building in front of them.

Blink nodded. "The lodgin' house is in better shape than this pile of junk."

"And he calls us uncivilized."

"Which window d'you reckon is his?"

"I ain't sure. But I don't think it's either of those. That'd put his room in the front hall."

"I ain't sure this place _has_ a front hall."

Snoddy pulled on Blink's sleeve and tugged him toward the side of the house. "Let's go 'round back."

Blink followed him to the back of the house, which matched the front, decrepit and dirty.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Snoddy shrugged and then pulled a pebble out of his pocket, and chucked it toward a window on the upper floor of the house.

They watched in silence, waiting with abated breath for any sign of life on the inside. Snoddy looked at Blink and then pulled out another stone.

"Maybe you should try the other window, Snoddy."

"I was gettin' to that. You gotta learn patience, Blink." Blink frowned, dug into his own pocket and threw a rock at the second window.

Skittery's face appeared just as Blink was prepping to throw another one. Snoddy and Blink watched his surprised expression. He motioned for them to wait a minute.

"Well at least we know it's the right place," Snoddy said.

It didn't take Skittery long to appear on the back step. He didn't say a word as he closed the door behind him. He reached into his pocket, a pulled out a cigarette, which he lit.

"Haven't had me one a these in weeks," he said simply. "What are you guys doin' here?"

"We want you to come back to the lodgin' house, Skittery," Blink said.

Skittery laughed. "Why? So you guys can murder me in my sleep?"

"We wouldn't do that and you know it."

"You guys go on back. I got me a nice set up here, hot food, soft bread, warm blankets…good company."

"You can't seriously _like_ hangin' around that scum!" Snoddy said, a little louder than he had meant to.

"It's a lot better than getting' soaked every day, sellin' to grumpy customers, all that good stuff that comes with bein' a newsie."

"You like bein' a newsie."

"I did. When I was foolish. Blink, Snoddy, I appreciate it, but you wasted your time comin' here."

He turned to leave. "Just uh…watch your backs, guys."

"Spot and Jack are plannin' somethin'," Blink said, suddenly. Skittery paused and then turned around to look at him.

"What are they plannin'?"

"We ain't sure yet. Some kind o' attack."

There was a slight hint of a smile on Skittery's face, but he caught himself and turned it into a frown. "You don't know what you guys are doin'. Jacob and his guys are…well, you're no match with them."

"We can take 'em," Blink said, defensively.

Skittery laughed. "Just be careful, awright?" With a fleeting smile, he turned and went back through the door.

"Well, that went good," Snoddy said.

"At least we're still alive." Blink started back through the side entrance and Snoddy followed close behind.

"For now."

…

Snoddy and Blink pushed their way into the lodging house, bursting at the seams with newsies from all over the city.

Jack and Spot stood in the front of the group, David just behind them, trying to quiet the noisy crowd.

"Listen up!" Jack shouted, while Spot used the quieter approach of glaring at his own boys. The crowd quieted.

"That's better," Jack said. "Look. I know we ain't the best of friends all of us, but sometimes we need to stick together when all our lives are at stake. Look what happened to Spot's boys. They ain't got a place to live no more, and it's all thanks to this guy that thinks he has the right to kill anything he don't like. We hafta do somethin' about it!"

"Like what?" asked a boy in the front, dressed in blue. It was unclear what borough he belonged to but neither Snoddy nor Blink had seen him before. Mush motioned them to join him near the front and Snoddy and Blink pushed their way to the front just as Spot began to answer the boy's question.

"Ain't nothin' _for_ us to do 'cept fight back! Hit 'em where they ain't expectin' it, just like they do us."

The meeting went on for another half an hour and then when Kloppman started to scold and lecture, the boys dispersed. Snoddy and Blink approached Jack, who was exchanging last words with Spot.

"Where have you two been?"

"We've been to see your 'guy on the inside'," said Blink. "We don't think he's so on the inside."

"What are you boys talkin' about?" Jack looked amused.

"We followed you today," Snoddy admitted. "We heard your talk with Spot. We know you think Skittery's gonna help us, but he ain't. We were just there."

Jack grinned. "I'll let you boys in on a little secret. We already talked to Skittery, and we already know where and when the next attack will be."

"What? But…why would he—"

"Lie to you? Because I asked him to. Skittery ain't safe. That group he's with won't hesitate to slit his throat if they think they're bein' double-crossed. You two need to stay away from there, and away from him." Jack placed a hand on Snoddy's shoulder. "He hasn't left us," he said. "Not really."


	8. chapter 8

Disclaimer: ditto

Chapter 8:

"You look nice, Skittery."

"It's James, Denton. You gotta remember that. And if Jacob asks, I was at school everyday."

Denton put his hands on Skittery's shoulders and looked him in the eyes, smiling. "Don't worry Skittery."

"James!"

Denton laughed. "I know I know."

"Stop playin' games, Denton. I gotta make this look real."

"James, where is Miss Nelson?" Jacob stopped beside Skittery and looked Denton over. "Who's this?"

"I am Jonathon Nelson," Denton said, putting out a hand, which Jacob shook. "I'm afraid my wife has fallen ill and has sent me in her place to speak with the parents. Are you James's father?"

Jacob smiled. "I am. I was unaware that Miss, sorry Mrs. Nelson was sick. Did it just occur? She looked well two days ago."

"It came on pretty quickly." Skittery felt his heartbeat speed up, hoping that Miss Nelson wasn't anywhere in the near vicinity. It was obvious that she and Jacob knew one another and if he had only seen her two days before, there was a good chance he would see her again.

Skittery hoped he could be away from Jacob by then. He'd seen what happened to John, and he had no doubt in his mind that he would suffer the same fate.

It suddenly occurred to him that Jacob and Denton had been carrying on a conversation to which he had been totally unaware. Now they were both looking at him expectantly.

Skittery gulped. "Don't be shy, boy," Jacob said.

"Um…I was just telling Mr. Loffstetter how much we've been learning about in history."

"Oh…"

Jacob laughed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Nelson. The lad has had quite a week."

"Don't we all?" They laughed again and Skittery caught Denton's eye for a second. Denton winked and Skittery let out a breath. Perhaps he would make it out of this alive after all.

….

"I must admit, I am frightfully disappointed that you couldn't even recite your history lesson," Jacob said, hanging his hat on a hook. "Well, what's done is done." With his hands on his hips, he looked down his long nose at Skittery. "I hope you're prepared for our cleansing tonight."

Skittery must have looked surprised then because Jacob frowned.

"I-I thought it was next week."

"Oh. Must have slipped my mind to tell you. We've pushed it up." Jacob removed his coat and then settled into his big easy chair. He kept his eyes on Skittery the entire time.

"Why?"

"My motives really are just that. Mine…" Jacob trailed off. "We think there may still be a rat amongst us."

Skittery gulped and then immediately regretted it. "A rat?" He choked the words out.

Jacob looked amused. "A rat indeed. See, we have an informant that, well, keeps us informed. He warned us that our targets somehow found out about the cleansing and have planned a counter attack."

"Who would—?"

"Who would is just what I have been asking myself." Jacob stood up again, and started to move toward Skittery. "I thought we'd fixed our little problem when we got rid of John, oh yes, we got rid of him." Skittery started to back up as Jacob moved closer.

"I pondered for a very long time, young James. Who among us could be a traitor? Surely not Peter, I trust him with my life. There are a few others who I have been keeping a very close eye on. It didn't occur to me that the perpetrator may be living in my own house."

He was less than an inch from Skittery, and Skittery was frozen, unable to move away though his life depended on it.

"W-what do you mean?"

"You can drop the act now, boy. When I found you on the street, something about you struck me and I couldn't figure out what it was. So I decided maybe you had potential, and I took you under my wing. I taught you, fed you, I put a roof over your head. I gave you a family, James. And how do you repay me?"

Jacob grabbed Skittery by the collar and pulled him out of his office toward the back door. He threw him Skittery off of the porch where he landed at the feet of Jacob's men, dressed from head to toe in black robes.

Skittery scrambled to his feet. "Please, Jacob, I didn't—"

"It's too late for apologies, my young friend. You see. Upon careful research, I discovered why you stood out amongst those ruffians. You looked so much like someone I once knew. And once you were cleaned up, fed and taught a few manners, you came to be almost an exact replica of someone whom I despised more than anyone I have ever met." Skittery felt arms clasp onto his and realized the men in black were holding him. He tried to pull free.

"My daughter, my pride and joy, made the biggest mistake of her life when she married that dirty Mick." Jacob was coming down the steps now, crossing the lawn. He was a foot away from Skittery when he raised his hand and struck.

The sting brought tears to Skittery's eyes, but he blinked them away, unwilling to show weakness.

"You're insane," Skittery hissed.

Jacob laughed. "I'm beyond insane, James. I have made it a personal vow to destroy everything in this city that is dirty. So no father ever has to watch their daughter whither away as I did mine."

He punched Skittery in the stomach, and if Skittery hadn't been held back, he would have doubled over.

"You killed her," he said quietly. "You murdered your own daughter."

"She wasn't my daughter, foolish boy. My daughter died the day she gave her life over to that…scum."

Skittery felt another blow to his face, this one harder than the first and aimed right at his eye. "Now I have a chance to finally destroy the thing that has been haunting my dreams all these years."

"What are you talking about?"

"My last and only living grandson. I have been searching for years…I've finally found you."

"No! You don't know what you're saying—" a hand was put over his mouth and his sentence was cut short. A million emotions were running through his mind. It couldn't be true.

"Now I can finish what I started."

…

Jack couldn't sleep. They'd spent the week planning for their surprise attack. Only two more days to go. Jack hadn't slept a week. And from the deep circles beneath Spot's eyes, the young Brooklyn-ite hadn't either.

It was pointless to lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling nervous, but he couldn't leave his boys. Not now. Even with Skittery's help, Jack felt hopeless. They'd been watching the papers nervously, making note of every detail, of every attack Jacob and his men launched.

There seemed to be no escape.

Then there was a loud crash downstairs. Jack wasn't the only boy who leapt out of bed, and barefoot, clad only in his underclothes, ran down to the source of the noise.

They had come early. "Get the door!" Jack shouted. He didn't notice who obeyed his order or if anyone did, he ran to the nearest window and began to kick, push, and hit at the boards that covered it. The glass was gone, broken shards outlined the frame and Jack sliced his foot on one as he attacked the board with vengeance.

"It's no use!" Someone shouted.

Jack would have none of it. Why hadn't he heard the pounding of hammers, the other windows breaking? He'd been awake, alert.

He felt two hands pull him away from the window and he struggled against them.

"Get offa me," he shouted.

"Jack you're bleeding."

"So what? Let me go!"

"Let someone else do it."

As the voice behind him spoke, someone moved in front of Jack and took over the window he had been banging on.

"Skittery lied to us," Jack said, letting himself be led away from the action, to a corner, still unaware of who was aiding him.

"Maybe he was just misinformed," said the voice. "Stay here Jack. We're going to try and get us out." His savior disappeared and Jack leaned back against the wall.

Suddenly the dark room was lit by a burst of flame crawling into the room beneath the door. He could hear Kloppman's voice, shouting for someone to get water. A few pairs of feet hurried up the stairs.

Jack climbed to his feet. He wouldn't die without a fight.

There was shouting outside, angry shouting, but the words were muffled.

There was a hissing sound as a bucket of water was poured onto the flames, to no avail, the flames continued to creep inside, through the windows, beneath the door. Even the walls were ignited.

As Jack started to help with the water line, passing the bucket and then back, he felt his foot begin to throb painfully. He cringed but held his ground. It was all he could do.


	9. chapter 9

Disclaimer: see previous eight chapters…

Chapter 9:

Jack couldn't breathe through the heavy smoke. All around him, his family was falling to the floor, gasping and choking for air. His own throat burned, his eyes could barely stay open.

Blink in front of him struggled to pour the bucket of water on the fire that now engulfed the entire front wall, and the windows.

"Its no use," gasped Specs behind him, clutching his neck.

"Keep going!" Jack yelled, his voice hoarse.

They kept going, passing the bucket from hand to shaking hand, gasping, struggling, and begging for air. Jack felt his knees start to give way beneath him, his vision started to blur.

Then, as he fell forward, nearly crushing Blink, the door burst open, and a line of shadowy figures filtered in. Jack closed his eyes, and gave in to the figure above him that grabbed his feet and started to pull.

Loud shouts woke him from his deep sleep later that day, and as he sat up, his throat still on fire, and his eyes watery, he saw all around him, his boys, sprawled across the sidewalk, in the middle of the street, everywhere.

"Welcome back," said a voice he recognized immediately. Jack turned his neck and noticed Spot, perched atop a large crate, staring down at him. "Lucky for you, we were in the neighborhood."

"Spot, what happened?"

"You forgot already?"

"No, I mean—" Jack turned all the way around to stare at the remains of their lodging house. "Kloppman is he--?"

"That old man's got a lot of spirit. Some officers took him down to the hospital this morning, along with a couple of your guys."

"Which ones?"

"Easy Jacky boy. They're all in good shape considerin'…things."

"Which ones, Spot?"

"Racetrack is there, a blond kid with glasses—"

"Dutchy…who else?"

"Uh…Boots. Crutchy. Mush. They're all alive though. You're lucky you didn't lose any."

"Spot," Jack dropped his head back onto the hard ground, coughing as he did so. "Skittery sold us out. I never thought…I thought I knew my boys…"

Spot gave him what Jack could only deem a sympathetic look, and then stood up. "You're boys are alright, Jack." Then Spot left, began mingling with the police and firemen and other adults milling around, fixing wounds, giving the boys water.

Jack looked back and stared at the burnt façade of his home. He felt like a failure. He was their leader and he'd been careless. He'd trusted Skittery too much, and he hated Skittery for turning him into a liar. Even more he hated himself for being a failure.

…

Snoddy felt uncomfortable sleeping in a jail cell, even if he wasn't in trouble. Exhausted snores drifted around the room, some boys coughed. Snoddy lay on his lumpy cot, unsettled and not at all tired.

He heard footsteps, sat up slightly to find the source, and in the minimal light pouring through the jail's tiny windows, he saw Jack walking toward the front door.

"Out to have a smoke," Snoddy concluded, Pulling himself from his bed and creeping quietly toward the jail's entrance.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Jack asked, his back to Snoddy. His head was bent over a match.

"I should ask _you_ the same thing," Snoddy said, coming to stand beside Jack who offered him a cigarette.

Snoddy waved it away.

"Suit yourself," Jack said, tucking the offering back into his pocket, and taking a big puff of his own. "There a reason you're out here, Snod?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Jack laughed bitterly. "I know the feelin'. Its always weird tryin' ta sleep in a bed that ain't yours."

"I bet Skittery had no problem."

"You know, Snod. It's funny. Sometimes you think you know a person and then they just turn out so…different."

"Maybe he's been this way all along, he just never had a chance to show us."

"I can't imagine how you must feel, Snoddy. I mean, you and Skittery, you're like brothers almost."

"He ain't my brother."

"I never said he was. He almost was."

They sat in silence, leaning against the jailhouse walls, watching the patterns created by Jack's cigarette.

Then something moved in the shadows.

"Did you see somethin'?" Jack asked, leaning forward.

"Somethin'."

They waited, holding their breaths and staring intently at the dark areas created by the buildings surrounding them.

"What is that?" Jack asked, stepping forward as whatever it was moved forward.

"Not 'what' Jack. Who?" Snoddy jumped off of the porch and hurried toward the figure which was trying desperately to stand up.

Jack followed.

Snoddy was already kneeling by him, listening to his gasping words when Jack skidded to a halt.

It was Skittery, plain as day, but his face was so bloody and bruised, he didn't look much like himself. Jack knelt down on the other side, looking up at Snoddy as he did so.

"I'm sorry…" Skittery said. His voice was hoarse. "I couldn't get here in time and they found out, they found out!" He started to ramble, his eyes looking straight ahead.

"Shh," Snoddy said, grasping Skittery's bloody hand tightly in his own. "It's alright, Skittery. You're home now." With his other hand, Snoddy gently stroked Skittery's hair, while Jack watched, uncertain of what to say or do.

"I wonder how he knew where we were," Jack said.

Snoddy shrugged. "Maybe Spot told him."

"Spot would never have let him come here alone. Not in this shape."

"Maybe he ran into a bull."

"You ain't thinkin'!" Jack said. He stood up and began to pace. "The bull would o' escorted him back hisself. You know that."

"Maybe he overheard Jacob and the others—"

"That's just what I was thinkin', Snoddy. And if he knows we're here, he'll be comin' for us."

"I don't think he's going to attack a jail, Jack. He ain't that stupid."

"You're right…but if he knows we're here, then he's got a guy watchin' us."

…

Skittery's eyes fluttered open and he shut them again immediately as they were met with bright sunlight. He groaned, realizing as he tried to stretch, that his entire body felt as though it had shattered into a million pieces and then was lit on fire.

There was a rustling sound and then a face appeared over his own. "He's awake!" Someone yelled.

The pounding of feet on the floor sounded like thunder in his ears and he cringed.

"Skitts! You alive?"

"If he weren't, he'd be dead, idiot." There was the sound of flesh on flesh then and Skittery knew a fist fight had just broken out. Then Jack's commanding voice ordered them to stop and his own face came into Skittery's view.

"Sleep well?" he asked, his face emotionless.

Skittery struggled to pull himself into a sitting position and it was from his new viewpoint that he become conscious of where exactly he was.

Where they all were. He recognized the heavy black bars, the bleak stone walls, the lumpy mattress. "Why are we here?"

"You tell us," demanded Racetrack. He stared at Skittery, his arms folded over his chest.

"Like I would know."

"You should."

"Enough Race," Jack said gently. He turned back to Skittery. "That pal o' yours done the lodgin' house in. Burnt to a crisp."

"Honest Jack. I meant to tell you…I didn't know…"

Jack placed a hand on Skittery's chest. "Easy, Skittery. Look…we may not all be willin' to trust ya so quickly at the moment, I mean…what are we supposed to believe, huh?"

Skittery lowered his eyes.

"But," said Racetrack. "You can stay with us if you need to. Obviously, they don't want you on their side no more…"

"So, ah…rest up."

Jack turned away leaving Mush and Specs to pounce onto Skittery's bed excitedly, relaying the events of the past week to their injured friend.

"Where is everybody?" Skittery asked in one of the rare moments that Mush and Specs were silent.

"Out sellin'," explained Mush as though it were the most obvious answer. "Where else would they be?"

Skittery, momentarily forgetting his pain, jumped out of bed and grabbed Jack by the arm. "You can't let them go out there! You have to get them back."

"What are you talkin' about?" Jack asked.

"Loffstetter and his guys. They're gunnin' for us, Jack."


	10. chapter 10

Disclaimer: Ditto

Chapter 10:

"Newsies soak prophet and all his men!" Snitch shouted. Itey elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Ow…Geez, Itey."

"You can't say stuff like that, Snitch."

"Why not? We do it all the time! 'Sides. Give us a week and it'll be true anyway. Hey! Maybe I'se a prophet…predictin' the future an' all." Snitch grinned.

Itey shook his head and pushed through the crowd, holding up a paper as he went. Even with all of the recent events, the headlines were dull and seemed to overlook that the poor people of New York were in danger. Not that they really cared. No one did.

"Hey kid!" Itey spun around, and so did Snitch. A man hurried toward them, holding a shiny nickel in the air. Itey smiled eagerly shooting Snitch a triumphant look before removing a paper from his stack.

"Any exciting news today?" he asked in a heavy Scottish accent, once he had come to a halt in front of the boys.

"Sure, there's always excitin' news," Snitch said.

"Like what? Any fires?"

"None that were written 'bout. But we know of one. Buy a couple papes, we'll tell you all about it."

The man grinned. "So young. So foolish." He tucked the coin back into his pocket. Itey gulped.

"You wanna pape or not?" he asked.

"I'm not here to make business deals with orphans—"

"We ain't orphans," Snitch spat. "Itey's got hisself a mother and I gots me a father. A little brother too."

The man laughed. "Why don't you boys come with me. Tell me about that fire."

Itey shook his head. "We ain't interested."

"Suit yourself. We'll just have to do this the hard way." He shrugged and then placing two fingers in his mouth, he whistled.

Snitch grabbed Itey's arm and started to pull as other men began to emerge from the crowd.

"Run Itey!" He called over his shoulder, dropping his papers. Itey held tightly to his for a few minutes, until Snitch started to pull away leaving a bigger gap between them. _Now, was not a good time to split up_, Itey decided. He threw down his papers and increased his speed, keeping his eyes on Snitch's back and dodging people in the streets.

Looking over his shoulder, he realized the men were right on his tail.

"We ain't gonna lose 'em," Snitch shouted.

"Sure we will," said Itey. "Who knows these streets better than us?" He grabbed Snitch's arm then and tugged his friend into a nearby alley. They scaled the brick wall at the end and then continued running, certain the men wouldn't stop their pursuit until they caught what they had come for.

"Come on, Itey," Snitch coaxed, grabbing Itey's arm.

"No fair! Your legs are longer."

"We can fight about this later."

They both looked back at the same time. All four of the men had successfully cleared the wall as well.

The boys darted into another street, hoping to lose themselves in the crowd, constantly looking behind them.

"I don't see 'em," Itey said.

"What?" Snitch glanced behind him, slowing a little.

"You think they gave up?" Itey asked. They were still running, but they had slowed down a great deal.

"No," Snitch said. "They gots somethin' up their sleeves."

Suddenly he ran into a brick wall with a loud "oof" and stumbled backward into Itey.

"Where are you kids off to in such a hurry?" The brick wall asked. Both Itey and Snitch looked from the man, to one another and then back again. At the same time, they started to run.

…

"I ain't seen 'em all day," Boots said, cowering under Jack's desperate stare. Jack clenched his teeth and then ordered boots to turn in.

"Who ain't he seen?" Blink set his leftover papers on a table and looked at Jack expectantly.

"Snitch or Itey…they're the only ones that ain't back yet."

"You want we should go look for them?" Dutchy volunteered.

Jack shook his head. "I can't lose any more o' youse. Skitts says they're gunnin' for us."

"Eh, what's he know?" Racetrack grumbled.

"Enough," Jack said. "Enough to keep us alert and ready."

"He's probably settin' us up for another ambush."

Just then, the jailhouse door banged open and Snitch and Itey ran inside. They slammed it hard and collapsed against it, breathing heavily.

"What happened to youse?" Jack asked, inspecting each boy quickly for any sign of injury.

"Nothin'…we was…sellin'…and a man started chasin' us…"

"Him and his whole gang…we finally lost 'em on 44th, but we ran all the way back just so to make sure."

"But they didn't touch you? No cuts, no bruises? Nothin'?"

"Nothin'."

Jack grinned. "Welcome back boys. Turn in now. Its late." Snitch and Itey nodded and then moved to their cots.

Jack turned to Racetrack who sat in a chair in the corner, habitually shuffling his old deck of cards.

"I know what you're thinkin', Cowboy."

"Oh you do?"

"Yeah I do." Racetrack stood up and crossed the short distance between them. He had to tilt his head up to look Jack in the eye. "Stop thinkin' it. He's two faced. Nothin' but a scab."

"Two faced or not, he warned us, Race. That counts for somethin'."

"Yeah well," Racetrack turned away. "He's lucky I'm charitable is all."

"I think deep down, Race. You know he's still one o' us."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Race replied simply.

…

Skittery cringed as the jail house door creaked. He turned around quickly to make sure the noise hadn't woken anyone up, and then pushed himself through the small opening into the cool night air.

His body ached all over as he pulled the door closed.

"Goin' somewhere?" A voice to his right asked.

"Jack." Skittery tried to keep the alarm out of his voice. "I was…just comin' out for a smoke."

Jack stepped closer to him, obvious distrust written all over it. "A smoke huh?"

"That's right."

"So smoke."

Skittery narrowed his eyes and then reached into his pocket. It was empty. He reached into the other one only to find it just as bare. "Whadda ya know," he said tartly. "I'm all out."

Jack smiled slightly and then handed Skittery his half smoked cigarette. "Help yourself. It's my last one."

Skittery shook his head. "Nah. I ain't gonna take your last one."

"No big deal. I'll get more from Snitch in the mornin'. Go one. Take it." Jack pushed the cigarette closer to Skittery but Skittery shook his head again.

"I ain't in the mood for smokin' no more."

Jack shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Skittery watched him closely, edging toward the steps leading down to the road. "I think I'll just take a little walk," he said.

He hurried down the steps and into the street and thought for a fleeting moment that maybe Jack was going to let him go.

Until he felt a tug on his collar and nearly fell over as his feet struggled to keep their balance.

"Not alone."

Skittery pulled himself free of Jack's grip. "I can watch out for myself," he growled.

"Oh? Is that why you came back to us, half dead? You were out for almost a week, Skittery."

"That was different. Ain't no one gonna see me."

"Where are you goin' at least. You know, in case you ain't back by mornin' we'll know where to look for your dead body."

Skittery shoved Jack hard, and the taller boy staggered slightly, but righted himself and then grabbed Skittery's arm when he tried to abscond.

"Let go a me," Skittery said.

"Not until you tell me what you're up to."

"This don't concern you, Cowboy. This is between me and him."

"Him? Loffstetter you mean?"

Skittery narrowed his eyes, angry that he had slipped up. Jack wasn't dumb. He would figure things out.

"Yeah. Loffstetter. You got a problem?"

"Yeah I got a problem. Why are you runnin' off to him in the middle of the night when a week ago, he tried to kill us, and he left you for dead!?" Jack's eyes were wide with anger, but Skittery felt just as livid. "Does a warm bed mean that much to you that you'd go back to him?"

Skittery pushed Jack away again, harder this time, and Jack didn't try to hold him back.

"You don't know anything! I have more reason than any of you to hate Jacob. If anyone gets to declare war on him, its me!"

"He's after us all, Skittery."

"But he didn't kill _your_ parents!" Skittery snapped him mouth shut and looked down at the ground.

"What are you talkin' about?"

"What part don't make sense? Jacob killed my family because they were poor, just like me. And somehow I got away. _I_ have to stop him. Not you. Not Spot. Not anyone but me."

Jack didn't move to stop him when he started to run again, his bones aching and his eyes threatening to spill tears of fury and hate.


	11. chapter 11

Disclaimer: ibid

Chapter 11

"Wake up boys." Jack banged on the iron bars of the cells, waking the sleeping boys from their restless dreams. Blink sat up quickly and looked around. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, he realized something wasn't right.

"What's goin' on, Blink?" Mush asked groggily next to him.

Blink shrugged and then stood up to get dressed. "Somethin' ain't right."

Moments later, the boys, red eyed and sleepy were all gathered outside.

"What's the big idea, Jack?" Racetrack asked, already working the tobacco out of a cigar.

"We've dealt with this long enough. We're going after Loffstetter and his men tonight." There was a dull murmuring as the boys talked excitedly amongst themselves.

"What about Brooklyn?" Boots asked.

A voice from somewhere in the darkness surrounding them answered, "What _about_ Brooklyn?"

Something about their presence made Blink feel hopeful. He watched as Spot emerged from the shadows, flanked by a dozen or so of his boys, all looking fierce and anxious for a fight. Blink noticed that most of them were carrying clubs, or some form of deadly looking weapon.

"Look, I ain't guaranteein' youse that this'll be an easy fight, or that none o' youse'll get hurt. But we gots to do this. We gots to do it so we can sleep peaceful at night, and sell papes without getting' jumped."

"We're with you, Jack," said Snoddy suddenly appearing beside Spot. Spot clapped him on the shoulder, but Snoddy looked solemn.

Blink wondered how much of what was going on they hadn't been told.

"Let's go," Jack said. "And keep it quiet."

Blink, with Mush at his side, ran to the front of the crowd as they started stealthily down the dark and deserted streets. "Jack. What's goin' on?" he asked quietly.

"I just told you Blink. We're endin' this. Now."

"How do you know where they are?"

"I just do. Don't worry about it, Blink. Just trust me, awright?" Jack put a hand on his shoulder, and the action comforted him.

They followed Jack and Spot through the dark streets for what seemed like hours, and then finally, the leaders halted. Jack signaled for them to hold still, and once the boys had made themselves invisible in the shadows, Jack led a few of them to the front of an old brick building.

The building was larger than the house Blink and Snoddy had gone to, but the condition was the same, if not worse. Blink was more afraid they would be crushed by the crumbling brick than by the people inside of the building.

"When Jacky boy gives the signal," Spot said, quietly, "we charge." Blink heard the Brooklynite's footsteps pass by them and then heard his voice somewhere down the line.

Waiting was agony.

Blink could barely make out Jack's silhouette as it approached the door followed by a half a dozen others. Suddenly there was loud bang and the door burst open. Jack and the others barreled inside.

Blink stood up; ready to attack when the signal came.

Then Jack emerged and not even bothering to lower his voice he announced, "They ain't here. They must o' known we was comin'."

He returned to Spot's side and the two leaders had a hushed conversation. Blink turned to Mush who looked confused, and a little frightened. Blink put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and Mush grinned.

The boys began to talk quietly, some lamenting, some relieved, some so anxious to fight they were punching one another.

Blink looked around at the crowd, their faces illuminated by the bright moonlight.

As he scanned the crowd, his eyes fell upon a sight he hoped was his imagination. He grabbed Mush's arm and pointed to the man standing at the outer rim of the crowd. "He ain't a newsie," Blink said.

Mush's eyes grew wide as he pointed to another man less than a few feet from the first. "He ain't neither."

"Jack!" They shouted at the same time.

…

Jack looked up just as a fist nailed him square in the face. He reeled backwards and landed hard on the cold ground. He stood up immediately, but retaliation was difficult. HE couldn't see his opponent well through his watery eyes.

He swiped at his eyes with a sleeve, his senses suddenly aware that all around him, men were fighting with his boys. He watched Spot nail a man wearing a cloak hard in the stomach.

Jack noticed his own assailant just as he swung again. Jack ducked and aimed for the man's abdomen which he struck square on. The man leaned forward, but only for a second. A second was all Jack needed to swing a leg at the man's shin.

"Why you little—" Jack felt himself knocked flat onto his stomach. He winced as his chin hit the floor with a loud crack. The man was straddling his back, holding a bar tightly beneath his chin. Jack gasped for air and the man pulled harder.

"Get. Offa. Me!" Jack mustered as much strength as he could and threw the man off of him. The man landed beside him but wasn't fazed. Jack lunged at him, tacking him to the ground and the two rolled around, punching and hitting.

The man's hood fell off at one point, and even in the darkness, Jack caught a glimpse of his face. He wasn't much older than Jack, maybe in his early twenties with light hair and dark eyes, and an angular face. When he opened his mouth to spit at Jack's face, Jack noticed quite a few of the man's teeth were missing.

"Give up," the man hissed into his ear. Once again, Jack found himself on his stomach, this time, the man's foot was grinding into his skull, forcing his face into the dirt. Jack coughed as the dust entered his throat.

To the side of him, Jack watched Blink and Mush double-teaming a huge guy whose robe had been discarded completely. The man had just punched Mush in the side of his face, when Jack felt the pressure on his face release, and the man's foot was gone completely.

He stood up, noticed that the man was on the ground, Snitch grinning triumphantly over him. "I just saved your life," he said. "You owe me." Then he dashed away in search of his next victim.

Jack grinned at the man on the ground. "Maybe you guys are the ones who ought ta give up, eh?" Then he struck.

…

Skittery knew where Jacob would be. He wouldn't join the actual fighting, not when the risk of him getting injured was too high.

But Jacob relished a good fight, and there was no doubt he would be watching it.

Skittery entered the house quietly, surprised at how empty and quiet it was, wondering if maybe he had misheard the location.

Or else he had led Jack and the boys into a trap.

Pushing that thought aside, he crept up the stairs, stopping only once when a particular step creaked loudly.

Certain no one had heard him, he continued up until he was in the hallway, at the end of which was a room with a big window overlooking the empty street where the fight would surely take place.

He left a trail of footprints in the inch deep layer of dust that had gathered on the floor throughout its years of abandonment.

The door was shut.

Skittery reached for the knob quietly, turned it even more quietly and pushed the door open. It squealed loudly, alerting Jacob who stood by the window, his hands clasped anxiously behind his back. He seemed surprised to see Skittery, but the shock was temporary.

His open mouth turned up into a crooked smile. "I thought you were dead," he said.

"Well, I ain't." Skittery stepped toward him, ready to draw the small knife out of his pocket and strike down the old man.

But then he felt a hand over his mouth, and another hand grabbing him around the middle. He struggled against the unyielding grip, but his foe held tight.

"You're just in time for the show, I see." The man behind him whose face he had yet to see, pushed Skittery toward the window. Skittery reluctantly looked through it, but when he did, he watched in horror as Jack led the others into the street and motioned for them to stay put while he and a few others (It looked like Specs, Bumlets, Snitch and a few of the guys from Brooklyn) approached the door.

"Go back!" Skittery shouted, the sound muffled through the man's hand.

Skittery narrowed his eyes and tried his hardest to kick the man behind him.

He heard the loud boom of door below them being thrown open and Jack's threatening voice calling Loffstetter's name.

"I have you to thank for bringing them here, of course," Jacob said, never taking his eyes from the window.

Skittery watched in terror as Jack approached the crowd of boys, said something, unaware that dozens of Jacob's men were surrounding them from all sides.

"Go!" Skittery shouted.

Jacob laughed at his vain attempts to warn his friends. He turned away momentarily from the fight that had broken below and crossed the short distance between him and Skittery.

"I'm almost glad you didn't die," Jacob said. "Now I can have the pleasure of killing you myself." His eyes left Skittery's and focused on the man holding Skittery. "Peter, you may go."

Peter protested but left immediately when Jacob narrowed his eyes.

"Here we are, James. Grandfather and Grandson."

"Yeah, and some relative you turned out to be," Skittery mumbled.

Jacob smiled. "Am I really that disappointing? I only wanted what was best for you. Best for an orphan—"

"I'm only an orphan 'cause you made me one!"

"I can fix that right now, you know. Dead boys most certainly aren't orphans. Ready to join your parents, James?"

Skittery stood with his hands clenched at his sides, his teeth gritted, his breathing heavy. For a moment, running Jacob's words through his mind, he welcomed death.

He often wondered what death would be like. Wondered whether or not heaven was warm. Were his parents and brother there, waiting for him? Did they have warm blankets and hot food, and newspapers that didn't leave ink stains on your fingers?

But then there was the thought of revenge. Of what he could have had if his own grandfather hadn't been so full of hatred. Jacob had stolen his family, had deprived him of a mother and a father and home cooked meals, and an education.

It was that vein of thought that led him to the knife in his pocket, which he removed quickly and held up. The small amount of light in the room flickered off of the short blade menacingly.

Skittery glanced once more at the fight going on in the streets below them and then he looked Jacob in the eye.

"Lets end this."


	12. chapter 12

Disclaimer: same ol', same ol'

Chapter 12:

Jack punched the man one last time. His eyes rolled up into his head and he teetered for a second before collapsing sideways.

"That's all," announced a breathless Mush. He stood next to Jack, a trail of blood streaming down his face from somewhere above his hair line. "There ain't no more."

Jack heard a few victorious shouts ring out from somewhere in the crowd and he smiled. "Where's Spot?"

Mush shrugged and motioned to the bodies conscious and unconscious scattered about the street. "Somewhere out there."

Jack put a hand on Mush's shoulder. "Why don't you see who needs help, huh?"

Mush rushed off, shouting for Kid Blink who was helping Crutchy, covered with blood, to his feet.

The sun was starting to rise behind them, and the damage was becoming quite clear. All over the ground, people were moaning, grasping at open wounds, talking in soothing voices to their fallen comrades.

When Jack found Spot, he was punching like a wild man at a man's face already broken and contorted beyond recognition, swearing up a storm.

Jack grabbed Spot from behind, startling the young leader of Brooklyn. Spot almost went after Jack until he realized whom it was. Jack noticed a fury in Spot's eyes that he had never seen before. "It's over," Spot said, turning to spit at the man he had been beating up but who was now lying lifeless. "Its over."

He put an arm around Jack's shoulders and together they began making their rounds.

…

"It's a shame our reunion had to end like this," Jacob said, brandishing his own knife. "We could have been such a happy family."

"You ain't my family."

"You _aren't_, James. Didn't all of those lessons at school teach you anything? Oh! You didn't go. How silly of me to have forgotten."

Skittery lunged at Jacob, but Jacob was ready and sidestepped the attack. Skittery spun around and stuck out his hand toward Jacob's chest, but found himself stabbing at the air.

"Maybe I should have sent you to a fighting school, James. You really should learn how to do it properly."

"I don't want to _fight_ you, Jacob. I want you dead."

"Pity we don't always get what we want." Jacob flung out his own hand and the tip of his knife grazed Skittery's shoulder. "Oops. Dear me." Jacob laughed sinisterly.

Skittery ignored the pain in his shoulder, pushed it aside like he did the pain running the course of his body; his aching bones, his swollen face, his exhausted muscles.

He charged at Jacob again, and again missed.

Jacob seemed to be amused by the fight. His laughter echoed off of the walls as Skittery felt hot tears of frustration form at the corners of his eyes. More than frustration, he thought. Fear. Hatred. Sadness. He closed his eyes, willing the tears away, and when he opened them again, Jacob was already coming at him.

This time, Skittery felt the knife pierce his side. Shocked, he stumbled backward, staring down at the red stain growing on his shirt.

"Three family members down," Jacob said. "One to go."

As bad as the pain was, Skittery didn't think Jacob had stabbed anything too important. He put his right hand over the wound, and gripped his small knife with his left.

"Stubborn as your father, I see. Yes, I recall he put up quite a good fight himself." Skittery stabbed at Jacob but hit nothing. He could feel the anger radiating off of him, and he wanted Jacob to feel it also.

"It was only too bad your mother was already dead. She could have watched the heroic battle your father failed to fight…Oh yes, James. I killed her first. And then your father once he discovered her body. He knew it was I all along. Your poor mother loved her father too much to believe his warnings."

Skittery felt the tears escape, but he did nothing to stop them this time. "Why didn't you kill me too?" he asked through clenched teeth, the wound in his side, throbbing.

"I had no idea where you were. Perhaps you'll enlighten me."

Skittery remained silent. He couldn't answer the question even if he wanted to. Why was it so difficult for him to remember? Unless…

"How do you know I'm the guy you're lookin' for?"

Jacob smiled. "James, you are almost an exact copy of your father. Same eyes, same face, same unruly hair." Jacob reached into his jacket pocket and Skittery stepped backward, expecting him to pull out a second knife.

It was a piece of paper.

A photograph.

Jacob held the image up for Skittery to see. Skittery heard his knife as it the floor. It was like looking in a mirror. And beside his father, a beautiful woman with dark hair and wide eyes, a pretty smile. His mother. And in the front, two boys, both dark haired, but the one on the left, Skittery realized, was himself. He reached out to touch the photo but Jacob jerked his hand back, snapping Skittery back into reality.

"You see?"

Skittery nodded.

Jacob tucked the picture back into his pocket and started toward Skittery. "Your very existence has tormented me all these many years. But now, I will be rid of you. The memory of you. All of it."

Skittery grabbed the nearest thing to him for protection. Holding it in front of him, he realized he was going to be fighting for his life with a dull table leg.

Jacob laughed again, and this time Skittery joined him.

Jacob stopped laughing and looked curiously at Skittery, armed with his table leg, a fire in his dark eyes.

"Foolish boy."

"That might be, Jacob. I ain't been to school, and I don't got a family. But unlike you, _I_ grew up on the streets and one thing I learned was to never pick a fight you can't win."

"You should have paid more attention to that lesson, boy."

"And another thing."

"Whats that?"

"This."

Skittery swung the stick as hard as he could at Jacob's face. Jacob stumbled and landed on the floor, his knife flew out of his hand. Skittery lunged for it and then, a sense of triumph washing over him, he hovered above Jacob, the knife raised over his head.

"This is for my family," he said. The he plunged the knife into the old man's chest, just as the early morning sunlight started to stream through the window.

…

"Dom ain't doin' so well, Spot." Spot looked down at Dominik, gasping for air, a knife protruding from his heaving chest. He knelt down beside him as Jack continued on.

"Jack. Snitch is hurt real bad," Itey said, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him toward the wounded boy. Jack stared down at Snitch whose wounds weren't readily visible to his eyes.

"What happened to him?" Jack asked, putting a hand on Snitch's sweaty brow.

"I dunno," Itey said. His eyes were wide, panicked, and suddenly Jack felt a wave of dread wash over him. There had been a battle. People were going to die if they hadn't already and there was good chance, some of those deaths would be his own boys. Jack knelt beside Snitch and took the younger boy's hand in his own.

"You're gonna be awright, Snitch," he said. Snitch nodded, his eyes unfocused and his breathing shallow. "Itey, stay with him." Itey nodded and put his hand in the place of Jack's.

"You'll get me some more o' Race's licorice tomorrow, right pal?" he heard Itey say. Glancing back over his shoulder, he noticed a smile on Snitch's face.

When he heard whistles a few minutes later, he realized that the police had finally shown up. Spot was still busy with Dominick, so Jack approached the officers who looked horrified at the scene before them.

"What happened here?" The tallest of the three asked when Jack reached them.

"A little fight broke out," Jack said.

"Little fight?" A pudgy officer said. "It looks like a war zone here."

"See all them fellas in the black robes? They're the guys you're after." The tall officer turned to the other two.

"Round 'em up boys." He turned his attention back to Jack. "You want to tell me what happened here?"

Jack nodded. "They were tryin' to kill us. They're the ones that set our house on fire. They attacked a couple of my guys. We were tired of it."

"So you came here to pick a fight?"

"Yeah! What would you do?"

"Ignore them."

"When they're soakin' your boys and burnin' your house? It weren't safe for us no more. We had to do somethin'."

"Well, the way I see it is—"

"Officer Kremke." Jack and the officer looked up at the same time to see another officer walking toward them.

"Sir." Officer Kremke nodded.

"Go get a couple of hospital wagons down here. Some of these boys need help."

"Yes sir."

The officer hurried away, and the new one, wearing a nametag that read "Officer Front" reached for Jack's hand. Jack shook it.

"I'm afraid this is partly my fault," he said.

"A bull causin' a fight? There's a headline for ya."

Front smiled. "When your boys get back tonight, there are some things we ought to talk about."

A/N: k…one more chappy ought to do it. So weird…this story totally came out different than I had planned. Oh well.


	13. chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies and therefore am penniless and skittery-less…

Chapter 13:

Snoddy entered the building cautiously, unsure of what he would find inside. Jack had told him to search it just in case.

"Hello?" he called, stepping inside. He paused for a moment, looking around nervously, hearing nothing but the beating of his own heart. The bottom floor was a single, large room, open and spacious, and empty.

Reluctantly he moved toward the stairs. He stood at the bottom, looking at the darkness at the top and then started climbing. They creaked beneath his feet as he climbed, only his anxiety keeping him moving forward.

"Is anyone up here?" He called when he reached the top. There were only two rooms in the hall; the one at the end was open and bright so that was the one Snoddy went towards.

He gasped when he stepped inside. Jacob was lying there, a knife sticking out of his chest, blood seeping from the wound and dripping onto the floor. Snoddy felt sick. He turned to leave and his eyes fell upon Skittery who was huddled just beside the open door, his knees drawn to his chest, rocking back and forth slightly. His eyes were fixed on Jacob.

Snoddy rushed to his side. "Skittery? Are you alright? What happened?"

"I killed him," Skittery said, quietly.

"Don't feel bad. He deserved to die." Snoddy grabbed Skittery by his arms and helped him to his feet. "We have to get you out of here."

"I'm just like him," Skittery said, pulling away from Snoddy.

"No, you ain't. He's a murderer. You saved a lot of people…doin' what you did."

Snoddy tried to steer him from the room again but Skittery held back. "It don't give me the right."

"Skittery, you have to get out of here. You need to go see a doctor."

"No. Just leave me." Skittery pushed him away roughly, but Snoddy recovered quickly and grabbed Skittery's arms.

"I ain't leavin' you here. Not like this." With Skittery protesting the whole way, Snoddy managed to steer him out of the door, down the stairs and into the bright sunlight, which seemed to wake Skittery up a little.

"What happened out here?" he asked.

Snoddy looked around at the sight. Most of the boys had already been escorted home, save the few who were helping to load Jacob's men into the wagons.

"There was a little fight," Snoddy replied.

"Aw. There's my little hero now," Officer Front said when Snoddy and Skittery approached. Skittery narrowed his eyes at the officer and then pushed past him.

"Skitts! Where're ya goin'?" Jack called after him.

"Home," Skittery said. "To sleep."

"He needs a doctor," Snoddy said.

"We'll get him one. The best in town. After all he's been through, he deserves it."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"Don't bother with questions, Snod. He'll just tell ya to wait and he'll explain everythin' later," Jack said. "Believe me, I tried."

When the last of the wagons were loaded up, the boys were escorted home.

…

The new front of the lodging house smelled like fresh wood. The boys admired it as they filed inside and crowded into the front room where Kloppman had ceremoniously set out the sign in book.

Officer Front and Kloppman were having a hushed conversation behind the desk, and the others, save the few who were in the hospital, were solemn as they settled into chairs and onto tables to hear what the officer had to say.

Snoddy sat down beside Itey who looked especially miserable, but was trying to keep a smile. Blink, beside him, a dark red line running down the side of his face told him a couple of jokes. Mush tried to help.

"Listen up, boys!" said Kloppman a few minutes later. It didn't take long before everyone was silent.

Officer Front stepped forward and removed his hat. "I owe you boys a huge explanation." He said.

"And it had better be a good one," said Racetrack. His comment was followed by shouts of "here, here".

Front nodded. "I deserved that and I know it. A few weeks ago, I approached your friend, Skittery and asked him if he wouldn't like a job going under cover for the New York police department. See, we've been after Loffstetter for years, we lost track of him a while back when he left the state. He offered your friend a job, and I thought it was the perfect opportunity for us to finally get someone in there, to find out where his next move would be, and what his intentions were.

"At first, Skittery was reluctant, but I talked him into it. He attended the meeting and there, Loffstetter offered him a place to stay and gave Skittery his address. You all had a fight that night, and Skittery used that to his advantage. He walked out on you guys, joined up with Loffstetter and has been feeding us information ever since."

Front left it at that. The boys sat in a stunned silence.

"So what happened to the ol' geezer then, huh?" Racetrack asked.

"Dead. Stabbed by your friend. You can assure him, Mr. Kloppman, that he has done the police force a service, and his actions will be seen as such. To reward him for the capture of Loffstetter, we are presenting him with an award of fifty dollars. Tell him that, will you?"

Kloppman nodded. Officer front tipped his hat. "I'll be on my way, gentlemen. If you need anything, please let me know."

When the officer was gone, Kloppman was bombarded with questions. Finally the old man ordered them to hush up and listen, which they did.

"Where is Skittery?" Snoddy asked.

Kloppman took his time answering the question. "He's out on the fire escape." Snoddy moved to go to him but Kloppman stopped him. "Hear me out first."

Snoddy sat back down.

"Skittery he…he just killed a man. That ain't somethin' a guy just gets over, you know. It takes time."

"But he did it for a good reason, right?" Swifty asked.

"Yeah, but that don't make killin' feel good. He's got demons now. Lots of demons that he never knew he had."

"What's that mean, Kloppman?" asked Blink.

"It means there'll be no living with him," Racetrack said. The boys laughed nervously, glad for a little relief from the tension.

"It means, he'll be moody, and he'll pick fights, and he'll sit alone in the dark for hours just thinkin'. You boys need to help him out. Leave him be when he wants it. Make sure he eats. Keep your eyes open and make sure he don't go lookin' for trouble."

Snoddy stood up. "Can I go talk to him?"

"Only if he wants it. Don't push him, got me?" Snoddy nodded and then ran up the stairs as Kloppman continued his speech.

The window was open allowing a pleasant breeze to swirl throughout the room. Snoddy crossed the wooden floor, and climbed through the window. He found Skittery in the same position he had the previous day, only this time, a cigarette was hanging loosely from one hand, and his other hand was clenched around something.

He looked over at Snoddy when he sat down beside Skittery. Skittery's eyes were red, slightly puffy.

"You awright?" Snoddy asked.

Skittery nodded. "I might run out o' cigarettes though. He motioned to the ashtray beside him where a good number of smoldering paper cigarette remains were placed.

"I'll talk to Snitch. See what I can do."

Skittery smiled, only slightly and then focused on his cigarette.

Snoddy didn't know what to say, what to ask, what to do. It was an uncomfortable feeling considering how close they were.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

"I didn't give you any reason _to_ believe me, did I?"

"No, but…I know you better than that, Skitts. You wouldn't sell us out for nothin'."

"Look, Snoddy…I…" He sighed heavily. "Jacob…he was…my grandfather…"

"What?"

Skittery unclenched his other hand and handed Snoddy a crumpled picture caked with blood. "That's my parents and my brother…and me…" his eyes were shiny with fresh tears as he said it, but none fell.

"He hated my father so he killed them. All of them. And he came back to kill me."

"Skittery that's…"

"No reason for me to kill him."

"I didn't say that! I thought it was—"

"Snoddy, don't you see?" Skittery held up his hands which were rubbed raw. "I have blood on my hands now, and it won't ever come off. Deep down, Snoddy. I'm a killer just like him."

"You're _not_ like him."

"His blood is inside of me, Snoddy."

"Don't let it take you over then."

"What if…what if one day, I just…what if I become like him, even if I don't want to?"

"You won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I won't let you." Snoddy positioned himself so that he was sitting in front of Skittery. "Skittery, you're the best friend I ever had. You're my family and family looks out for each other, right?"

Skittery smiled faintly. "Yeah."

"And the others…we're all here for you, got that?"

Skittery nodded.

Snoddy doubted that his speech had done any good, but he vowed he would say it everyday until the words were ground into Skittery's thick skull, until he knew for certain, that they were a family and always would be.

Snoddy rested a hand on Skittery's knee. "Are you up for a bit of supper?"

Skittery shook his head. "I ain't hungry."

"Well, that's too bad," said another voice. Snoddy and Skittery looked up to see Blink, two bowls of soup and some hot bread cradled in his arms, climbing through the window. "Kloppy made your favorite."

Mush came out next, also laden down with an armful of food. He put a bowl in front of Skittery who decided he was hungry after all, and Blink handed one to Snoddy.

"Looks like rain," observed Mush, a few minutes into their silent meal.

"Comin' to wash away the dirt and grime…" said Blink. "Clean the streets. Make everything fresh and new. Like it never was dirty before."

"You think it could do that for people too?" Skittery asked.

"Sure," said Blink.

"Fresh and new," said Skittery. "Like it never was dirty before…" he trailed off and then after a while, he grabbed Snoddy's arm, causing Snoddy to spill his soup. "I want to take a walk in the rain."

"Okay. If that will make you feel better."

It started to sprinkle then, little water droplets falling on their dirty skin, and their food. They hurried inside, all except Skittery who remained on the fire escape for a minute. They watched him intently, and then he poked his head back in.

"I'm goin' for a walk," he announced.

"I'll go with him," volunteered Snoddy. The others nodded their approval and then watched Snoddy climb back through the window.

Blink and Mush watched them down in the alley. Skittery, his arms spread out and his head back, letting the rain soak him, Snoddy standing close by getting soaked involuntarily. Mush and Blink smiled at one another as they heard Skittery's voice drift in through the open window.

"Just like I never was dirty before."

THE END.

A/N: Hoo-freaking-ray. I am finally done!! Its 4 in the morning and I have class at 8. I think I deserve a few reviews just for that…don't you?


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